Love Prevails
by Dimcairien
Summary: A story about Mary and Matthew's relationship from 2.5 onward. It follows Matthew's daily struggles with life, Mary's struggles with Carlisle, and the struggles of their relationship. AU from about 2.6 on, though some of the plot will stay the same or very similar. Now complete, but the sequel is in the making.
1. A Wounded Soldier

**A/N Takes place during and after episode 2.5. This story will be semi-AU. Basically, some major parts of the series will be changed, but for the most part, the rough plot-line will stay the same. So, series 2 spoilers and as the story progresses, there will be spoilers for series 3. There will be some parts, especially in the first few chapters, where a lot of the dialogue will come directly from the show, but as it gets into my version, there will be less and less.  
**

**I've already written a good amount of this story and I do know the direction I want it to head in. Hopefully updates will be fairly accurate, but I'll be starting my second semester of college in a little over a week and I'm taking 17 units worth of classes, so basically a full load.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or the dialogue that is taken directly from the show.  
**

**Enjoy the story.  
**

Mary stood stiffly and silently in the corner of the hospital while the soldiers were brought in. Though her body may have been still, her eyes were darting all over the place. She shut her eyes in horror for a brief moment in order to try to get some of the ghastly images out of her mind, but it was to no avail. She knew they were permanently etched in her mind. She had chosen to stay here. Her discussion with Doctor Clarkson had made that evident and she needed to stay strong, for Matthew's sake.

"Mary!" she heard someone call. She quickly looked up to see Sybil at the door. "They're bringing them in," she said quietly.

Mary quickly straightened up and went to the doorway where her sister stood. "Bring him this way," Sybil said in a calm, yet firm voice.

In vain, Mary tried to not watch as cousin Matthew was brought into the hospital on a stretcher. He lay there, stiff and extremely pale. If it had not been for the ever so slight rise and fall of his chest, she would have suspected the worst. She watched as some other soldiers carried in the wounded and laid them on the beds that had been prepared for them. She may have seen the other soldiers, but she only truly saw Matthew. She hurried towards the stretcher just as Sybil and another officer were lifting Matthew onto the bed.

Once the officer had left, Mary reached down and looked at the tag that was attached to Matthew's uniform. She gasped in horror when she read the words. _Probable spinal damage. _Sybil looked at her sister and said gently, "It could mean anything. We'll know more in the morning."

Mary knew that her sister was right, but she also had a horrible feeling deep down that whatever injury Matthew had sustained on the battle field would bring many great changes to the family. Sybil began the gather up the blankets and other items that had been at the foot of Matthew's bed, when a small object fell out from among them. She reached down and picked it up. "What's this doing here?" she asked in a curious voice.

Mary reached over and took the small toy from her sister. "I gave it to him for luck," she said, trying to keep her voice steady and nearly failing.

With a sigh, Sybil said, "If only it had worked."

Mary looked at her sister and said with a hint of annoyance, "He's alive." And back in England with his family, she added silently.

Sybil nodded in response, then looked back down at their cousin. "We're going to need to wash him," she said quietly. "There's bound to be a lot of blood."

Mary looked at her sister and saw a look of determination there. "How hot should the water be?" she asked.

A flicker of surprise passed over Sybil's face as she looked up, but she quickly composed herself. "More warm than hot," she answered.

Mary nodded in answer and went to get the water, as well as the towels that Sybil had requested. When she got back, the task of cleaning began. At first, Mary could hardly believe how calm and steady Sybil's hands and arms were. After all, they were looking at an unclothed man! Mary quickly overcame those thoughts though. That part might be true, but he also was a grievously wounded man that desperately needed cleaning in order to avoid infection. Soon, they had done as much as was possible at the moment.

"Nothing more can be done until he awakes," Sybil said. She glanced down at Matthew who was still unconscious. "I pray he won't be in much pain when he awakes."

Mary nodded in agreement. "I'll be back in the morning," she said gently and with a squeeze of Matthew's hand, she left the hospital.

Early the next morning, Mary was there again, this time coming to the hospital with her father. She was sitting by Matthew's side when his eyelids fluttered open and a low groan escaped from his mouth. In a flash, Mary had moved to where he could see her without turning his head. "Matthew," she said in a tone that was barely above a whisper. "Can you hear me?"

"Mary?" Matthew said through another groan of pain.

"Yes, it's me," she responded, taking his hand into her own.

At that moment, Doctor Clarkson appeared, Lord Grantham having gone to fetch him the moment Matthew had awakened.

"Captain Crawley, I'm going to need to do an examination on you in order to determine the extent of the damage," he said. "I'm sorry I need to do this at the moment, but we need you conscious."

"Can't you wait?" asked Lord Grantham. "You can tell he's in pain."

"I wish we could wait until he's in less pain," admitted the doctor, "but, the pain will be easier to treat if we know the symptoms."

While the doctor had been talking, a nurse had put up some curtains to allow for a certain degree of privacy during the examination.

"Can I stay with him?" Mary asked breathlessly as Doctor Clarkson entered the semi-private area. He responded with a curt nod and she followed him in, her father waiting outside.

Doctor Clarkson and Mary gently turned Matthew over onto his side. "I'm going to start pressing on parts of your back and I want you to tell me if you can feel them," the Doctor said simply. While the doctor began the examination, Mary stood where Matthew could see her. He needed someone nearby that he knew. Mary was dreading the worst, she knew what it had to be, but she was praying that it wasn't what she thought.

The first few times Matthew responded positively, but as Doctor Clarkson got down to the waist, Matthew shook his head when asked if he could feel something. Mary gulped, but kept calm for Matthew's sake. He couldn't know, not yet. Doctor Clarkson moved his hands back up a few inches and pressed down, Matthew let out a low groan and nodded ever so slightly. Yet again, the Doctor moved back down to the waistline, this time in a different part, but again, Matthew didn't respond. The doctor began to work his way down Matthew's thighs, but he didn't get a single response. Mary was afraid she was going to break down. At that moment, she was extremely grateful that Matthew wasn't awake enough to be fully aware and understanding of the fact that he couldn't feel anything below his waist.

At that moment, Lord Grantham opened the curtains so Mary could see out. There stood Lavinia. Mary quickly exited the small private area, and hurried over to Lavinia.

"Do they know anything more?" she asked in a small voice. Mary could tell she was doing her best at staying calm.

"The doctor is examining him now," she said. Mary closed her eyes before she continued. "He thinks there may be problems with his legs."

Before either Lavinia or Lord Grantham had a chance to respond, Doctor Clarkson came over. "Not good news, I'm afraid," he said with regret showing in his voice. He continued, "The spinal cord has been transected, that is, permanently damaged."

For a few seconds, no one could say anything, then Lord Grantham spoke in a steady, yet shocked voice. "You mean he won't walk again?"

"If I'm right, then no, he won't," Doctor Clarkson answered. Before anyone could say anything, he continued. "I know this comes a shock to you. You must be allowed to grieve. I will say though, that he will gain his health. He will not loose his life."

Mary had finally found her voice in all of this. "Just the start of a different life."

The doctor nodded in response, then pulled Lord Grantham aside.

Mary watched the two head some distance and begin to talk privately. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. Matthew, young, strong, cousin Matthew would never walk again. Her thoughts were interrupted by Lavinia asking if she had a handkerchief. Mary rummaged in her handbag for a few brief seconds, before pulling one out and handing it to Lavinia, who took it in gratitude. Once she had dried her tears, she straightened her back and walked towards Matthew's bed. Mary was about to follow her, but was stopped by her father placing his hand on her shoulder. "Give them a moment together," he said quietly.

She turned to her father and asked what Doctor Clarkson had to say that had to be said privately, but her father told her that it wasn't anything for her to worry about, though his face seemed to say otherwise. Mary waited outside of the curtains for a time, just standing there with her thoughts. She couldn't even wrap her mind around the news she had just heard and dreaded what Matthew's thoughts would be when he found out. She knew that he hadn't been told yet, he was much too weak to know. It wasn't that long before Lavinia came out.

"He's fallen asleep," she said. "C-Can you stay with him while I go and unpack?"

"Of course," Mary answered gently. "I'll do anything to help Matthew … and you."

"Thank you," Lavinia responded and she hurried away.

Mary slowly sat down on the chair next to Matthew. There was nothing they could do. There wasn't anything anyone could do to help him, not yet anyway. How could the world, nay, how could God be so cruel, as to take away the lives and health of so many young men in such a horrific manner? A few minutes later, Sybil came by. "How is he?" she asked quietly.

Mary looked at her sister, unable to say the news. She felt that if no one said anything, they'd all wake up and it would be a bad dream. They'd be back in the garden at the party without any thought of there being war, but she knew that what was going on was reality. There was no way around it.

"Mary?" Sybil asked again. "Does Doctor Clarkson know?"

Mary swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump that had been in her throat ever since the doctor had told them. "It is spinal damage," she finally managed to croak out. "Doctor Clarkson thinks that the spinal cord has been transected."

"Oh," Sybil gasped, unable to say anything. "And there's nothing that can be done?"

Mary shook her head. "Not that he knew of anyway."

Sybil gently placed her hand on her eldest sister's shoulder. "He's here and alive," she said gently. "We mustn't forget that." Mary nodded curly and Sybil squeezed her shoulder as she hurried off to another part of the hospital, to either find the quietest corner to weep or the busiest corner to keep her mind off of things.

"Oh, Matthew, whatever we going to do," Mary sighed as she looked at the sleeping figure. Their lives, and the lives for everyone at Downton were forever changed. She didn't yet know whether they would be changed for the better or the worse.


	2. An Altered Life

**Warning: This chapter contains some language and dark thoughts coming from Matthew.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or the dialogue that is taken directly from the show.  
**

**Enjoy the story.  
**

Mary didn't know how long she sat there next to Matthew's bed, just waiting. It must have been several hours because of both the change in the shadows and the change in the nurses. She must've fallen asleep for a while because she was awoken by a groan that came from Matthew. She moved ever so slightly so that she'd be in his line of vision when he awoke. Once she saw that his eyes were opened she said in a falsely cheery voice, "Are you feeling a bit less groggy?" She couldn't let him know what had happened, not yet at any rate.

Matthew looked rather oddly at Mary. Where was he? What had happened? Then he remembered the battle and the shell, William doing something, and falling, then there was nothing but blackness. He must be in the hospital. There was something that was off though, but he couldn't quite figure it out. His entire body hurt, except for his legs. Why? "Where's Lavinia?" he finally managed to ask, wondering why that was his first question.

"She's back at Downton unpacking," Mary answered quietly. "She'll be here soon."

Matthew slowly nodded. That made sense. "And William? How is he?"

Mary froze up for a few seconds and didn't say anything. "He tried to save me," Matthew continued.

"I know," she said gently. "And we're all grateful for that." She tried to stop there, but the look on Matthew's face made her continue. "He isn't doing too good, I'm afraid. He's at a hospital in Leeds, but Granny and Edith are trying to get him transferred here."

Matthew sighed and turned his head away from her slightly, groaning slightly at the pain that appeared whenever he moved. "Any sign of, Mother?" he asked, his voice etched ever so slightly with despair. He knew she was working with the Red Cross in France, but he had hoped she'd be here. He had asked Lavinia earlier that day (was it still the same day?), but she hadn't known.

"Not yet," Mary answered, "but I'm sure she's on her way back by now."

If Mary had thought that these first few minutes had been horrible, she wasn't prepared for what Matthew said next. Throughout the time Mary had been speaking, he had been trying to figure out what might be wrong with him. Everything hurt and he knew he had been thrown against something in the blast. Everywhere hurt, except for his legs. He knew that meant something, but what? "There's something funny about my legs," he said at last, trying to figure out the best wording. "I can't seem to move them. Or feel them, now that I think about it. Did Clarkson say what it might be?"

Mary knew that she couldn't answer him. She had barely been able to say the words to Sybil, how much worse it would be to say them to the man the physically effected. With great effort, she tried to put a smile on her face. "Let's wait for Lavinia," she said.

"Tell me," Matthew commanded, though in a weak voice. If something truly was wrong, he couldn't have Lavinia there, not until he knew the full nature of the problem.

Mary began to panic slightly. What else could she say that could evade this conversation for a time? "You've not even been here for twenty-four hours," she said, "nothing will have settled down yet." Even though she knew that this was a poor reason for not telling Matthew the truth, she couldn't, not yet.

"Tell me," Matthew said again, suddenly getting very nervous. If Mary didn't want to say what it was, it surely had to be something bad. He swallowed in a fruitless effort to get rid of the lump in his throat that had suddenly arrived.

Mary sighed, knowing that no matter how much she wanted to avoid this conversation, it couldn't be avoid without her being rude. She also knew that if she got up and left to avoid telling Matthew, he'd figure out that it was something horrible. Knowing his thought process, Mary was certain that his imaginings might be worse than the truth. With a sigh, she finally said, "He says you may have damaged your spine."

Matthew stared at her in shock for a few seconds. "How long do you think it will take to repair?" he asked in vain hope. His father had been a doctor. He knew what a damaged spine meant, but he hoped it wasn't true.

Mary could tell by the look in his eyes that he was desperate for a positive answer, even though he probably already knew what the outcome would be. She couldn't tell him straight out that he'd never walk again, so she settled on the best answer she could possibly give. "You can't expect there to be timings on this sort of thing."

"But he did say I'll get better," Matthew stated, though he looked to be uncertain. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he immediately regretted saying them. What Mary had told him had to be true, there wasn't a way around it, yet he still hoped there was.

"He says first task is for you to regain your health," Mary stated. "And that's what we have to concentrate on."

Once again, Matthew turned his head away from her, the truth that he knew, yet wanted to avoid, finally setting in.

The tone of his next words cut through Mary's heart like ice. "I see," was all Matthew said, but the tone was one of deep despair and there was no hope whatsoever in it and that was true. His life as he knew it was over, forever.

She continued with the only positive statement she had left. "He says that there's no reason why you should not have a perfectly full and normal life."

"Just not a very mobile one," Matthew finished, trying to find something that he could say. It was amazing how quickly life could permanently change. He began to breath heavily, but was struggling not to cry. He couldn't let Mary, he couldn't let anyone, see him in that state.

Mary understood what Matthew was trying to do and she knew she had to let him have some time alone to come to terms, if he could do so, with his grief. She quickly stood up and asked, "Would you like some tea? I would." With that, she left his bedside, leaving Matthew staring dejectedly at the ceiling.

Before she had gone more than a few paces, Matthew added in a husky voice, "Thank you for telling me. I know I'm blubbing, but I mean it. Thank you." If he had had a choice of who would break this news to him, he would have chosen Mary. There weren't any others he could stand hearing such dreadful news from.

Mary smiled gently at her cousin. "Blub all you like," she said. "And when Lavinia's here you can make plans." As Mary walked away, she felt the tears that she had been forcing back come out. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and sped her pace up.

As Matthew watched her leave, he felt his spirits begin to sink and then the tears began to flow. The truth had hit him like a rock and he wasn't strong enough to hold on tight as the wave of grief spread over him. His life as he knew it was over. He had always known he'd be different when he came back from the war, but not this way. What Mary had told him couldn't be true, yet he knew it had to be. There was no other possibility. He didn't know why he was in denial of his injury when he knew that it happened, but he just was. Perhaps if he denied it enough, he'd wake up and this hell on earth would be over.

He wiped away the tears that were trickling down his cheeks, but the moment he wiped them away, new ones formed. Matthew was thankful that it was dark in the room for he didn't want anyone, much less a fellow soldier, to see him in his current state. Matthew didn't know how long he wept for. He had no account of time the world was a dark, dismal, place. What need was there of anything?

"Matthew?" someone asked sometime later. The tears had stopped long since stopped flowing, but he was still weeping inwardly.

"Matthew," the same person said again, "It's Sybil."

"Sybil," Matthew murmured, "please tell me it's not true." Again, why, was he asking? He knew the answer. He knew the dreaded truth.

Sybil sat down on the chair next to the bed. "I'm sorry, Matthew, but it is true," she said sadly. She picked up a handkerchief that lay on the bedside table and gently dabbed away Matthew's tears.

"Thank you for that," Matthew said in a barely audible tone. He was helpless. He couldn't wipe his own face. How could he live if he was destined to a life of being cared for? "Can anything be done?"

Sybil let out a long sigh. "No," she answered simply. "Not yet anyway. You're much to weak at the moment."

"Can anything ever be done?" Matthew asked, desperate for some type of positive answer. Surely there had to be something, but deep down he knew that there probably wasn't anything.

Sybil hesitated for a few seconds, took his hand in her own, and answered slowly, as if she was carefully choosing her words. "I won't say nothing can ever be done. There has been progress in the field of paralysis, but there is much that we still do not know about it."

Paralysis, that dreaded word, Matthew thought. That dreaded, damnable word. Matthew dug the fingers of his hand that wasn't in Sybil's grasp into his thigh, desperately hoping to feel something, anything, that could mean a different outcome, but it was to no avail. Why had he lived if he wasn't to properly get his life back? It was better to not be alive than to have a half-life. "I wish I were dead," he mumbled under his breath. Suddenly he heard a gasp. Dammit, Sybil was still next to him. She had heard.

"Matthew, don't," Sybil said quietly. "Don't wish that. You're here, you're alive, and you will have a life."

"A life," Matthew said in a steely tone. "A crippled life. A useless, worthless, crippled, half-life." He didn't care what he was saying and he didn't care who heard it. "Why should I have a life if I can't have a proper one?"

"Matthew-" began Sybil, but Matthew cut her off.

"I can't have a life! Yes, I'm here, but not with a life! Not a proper one. I'm half of a person, half of a man!"

"Matthew," Sybil said in a commanding voice. Matthew stopped his rant, genuinely frightened of his cousin's voice. "Stop that, stop it now. You're here and right now that is what matters." Matthew tried to open his mouth and tell her how wrong she was, but Sybil continued without giving him a chance to speak. "And don't let me catch you saying any of those things again. You are anything but half a person." She reached over and touched his chest right above his heart. "This is what makes you a person," she said gently. "Your heart, your soul, that is what makes you a person, not your physical body. It's who we are on the inside that makes us who we are. Don't forget that."

"B-but," Matthew started to protest.

"Shh," Sybil said, gently cutting him off. "Now, I'm going to give you something to help you sleep. You'll feel better later."

Matthew had no choice but to take the offered drink as Sybil gently spooned it into his mouth. The last thought he recalled as he drifted off was whether Sybil was right. Was it only the inside that mattered?


	3. A Ruined Life?

**A/N I would recommend having tissues nearby whilst reading this chapter.  
**

**This chapter deals with the conversation Doctor Clarkson had with Robert on how Matthew would be unable to bear children. I did my best to stay as vague as possible when talking about the precise implications as I get rather uncomfortable when reading that stuff. It's minor, but I thought I mention it just so no one is overly surprised.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or the dialogue that is taken directly from the show.  
**

**Enjoy the story.  
**

When Matthew awoke the next morning, two things went through his mind within seconds of each other. The first was wondering where he was, and the second was remembering he was a cripple in a hospital bed. He vaguely remembered what Sybil had told him last night, that it was the heart and soul that made the person, not the body. Did he believe that? All his life, he had known that one's personality was important, but a lot of who one was came from the physical presence as well. All the great men had been men of good character, in both soul and body. There was no way one could be anything without both, right?

It felt so strange just to lie there, perfectly still, not able to do anything. Was this be what his life was like for the rest of it? He couldn't stand it if it were so. Why was he still alive if he was doomed to such a life? This time though, for some strange reason, he didn't wish himself dead. He didn't know why, but figured that it probably had something to do with his conversation with Sybil. "I'll never get used to this," he muttered under his breath. He thought that he could almost feel his legs, but when he dug his hand into his thigh, there was nothing, nothing at all, and there wouldn't ever by anything again. "Don't you cry again," he mentally told himself. "Get a hold of yourself, Captain Crawley. Believe it." Could he though? Could he ever believe what had happened? Could he ever come to terms with it? How would it be possible even if he could? "God, why?" he murmured. "Why did you do this to me? Why?"

He stared straight up at the ceiling, trying to find something up there that could distract him from his thoughts, but it was to no avail. There weren't even cracks to count. So he just lay there, trying not to think, but finding it completely impossible.

A short while later, Doctor Clarkson came to his bedside. "Good, you're awake," the doctor said kindly. "Nurse Crawley said she gave you a sleeping draught last night."

"She did," Matthew answered. He didn't know how long he had slept, probably eight or so hours, but they had been a period of bliss. There hadn't been any pain and he hadn't been injured. He had tried to force himself to stay asleep when he had realized he was beginning to wake, but he was back in this world, in this world of pain and paralysis, the world he hadn't yet accepted, the world he probably would never be able to accept. He was grateful that the doctor had stopped by, if only to distract him for a few moments.

Doctor Clarkson sat down on the chair next to the bed. "Captain Crawley," he began, then stopped. "There's something I have to tell you that I wish I didn't have to, and I know you're not going to like it." He paused, and licked his lips. "I'm so sorry …"

"That I'll never walk again," Matthew finished, wincing as the words left his mouth. He had thought them and heard them many times yesterday and this morning, but this was the first time he had said it. It was almost a relief to say them though. It made it more real, but at the same time, easier to accept. Why? How did saying something help more than thinking it? He knew it had been true when he first heard it, when he had s-, when he had tried to say it without the precise words. Why did the precise words make such a difference? He had no time to contemplate this question as the doctor began to speak again.

"How … who told you?" Clarkson asked hurriedly.

"Mary," Matthew answered quickly, almost too quickly. "Yesterday afternoon. I told her to tell me what was wrong." Goodness, he was grateful she had told him. If that news had hit him this morning …, he didn't know what to think and didn't want to try to figure out what the answer to that thought might have been.

"Good, good," Clarkson said, somewhat relieved, but still very nervous. "There's something else though that I need to tell you."

Matthew looked up at the doctor as worry filled his mind. What else could there be that the doctor needed to tell him? He already knew what his injury was, what it meant for him and for his life, even though he was still denial, despite his knowledge of the truth. There couldn't be anything else, could there? Or, was this new information some information of hope? Was their some possibility that he could regain partial motion? Hell, he'd even take being stuck in a wheelchair is he could just feel something in his legs.

"I don't need to go into detail with this," Doctor Clarkson began, "but considering who your parents are, I'm certain you understand how reproduction works."

Matthew nodded as his spirits fell. He was rather confused as to where this was going and he knew it didn't have anything to do with possible recovery. He was paralyzed. That shouldn't cause any problems with that other area other than the fact that he, well, wouldn't know what was going on down there.

"Good," Clarkson said, slightly relieved. "What you probably don't know is that the sexual reflexes are controlled in the same place that the motor control of the legs comes from."

Matthew stared at the doctor in disbelief. This couldn't be happening to him, it simply couldn't! "No," he murmured in a mixture of horror and disbelief as realization struck its dreadful blow again. "No."

Doctor Clarkson placed his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said gently. "Truly I am." With that, Clarkson left to go to yet another part of the hospital, leaving Matthew alone with his thoughts.

Why? Why did it have to be like that? He could've lived knowing he'd never walk again, knowing he wouldn't feel the sensation of making love, but as long as it was possible, as long as there could be children. Now though, that ability was not to be. He would never be a father; he couldn't be one. It was as simple as that; it was now an impossibility. In some ways, this new information from Doctor Clarkson was worse than hearing what his external injury was. This new injury, this internal injury, was many times worse because it didn't just affect him, but almost everyone he knew. Lavinia, there could never be children for her to bear for him, and Cousin Robert, there could never be an heir after him. They'd have to desperately search again. Well, perhaps he simply shouldn't be Earl of Grantham then, if he couldn't provide the next heir. Yes, life wasn't all about having children, the world would be an interesting place if that was one of the sole purposes of life, but it was still an important part. He longed to be a true husband to Lavinia, and had even hoped that he still could have been one, even with his injury, but with this new piece of information, he knew that he couldn't hold on to her, not for his sake and most certainly not for hers. How could life, how could God, be so cruel as to take away so many of the thing he loved about life, brisk walks, a bicycle trip, the wish to be a true lover, the wish to be a true father, in one fell blow?

He didn't have very long to contemplate this question, much to his relief, because Lavinia soon arrived. As soon as he had fully realized what he had to do though, he immediately grew angry and wished she would just leave, but that was not to be the case.

"You're awake," she said cheerfully as she ignored is sullen look. "I'm glad." She paused for a moment and continued in a slightly more serious tone, "How are you doing."

"As well as can be expected," he muttered, wondering why on earth she'd ask such a question. How well could someone be doing when their life had done a complete turn-around in forty-eight hours? Hell, he didn't know how he was doing!

Lavinia looked into his eyes and said sadly, "So Doctor Clarkson told you?"

Matthew shook his head. "Mary did," he answered. "Yesterday, while you were unpacking. I asked her to."

Lavinia nodded slowly in response.

Matthew looked up into his fiancé's eyes. Even though he was still in pain and morphine was still in his system, he could see the deep love that was in them. It was that look that made it all the harder for him to tell her what he had to.

"Lavinia, there's something I have to tell you," Matthew said slowly as he struggled both to find the words and to keep calm. He had hardly known about this information for a quarter of an hour, and that wasn't enough time to grasp it, but he needed to tell Lavinia before he lost his courage. "About … about our relationship."

"Can't it wait?" Lavinia asked. "Please, don't worry yourself about it. We can wait until you're strong enough."

"No," Matthew said as firmly as he could, which wasn't very firm at all. With great effort, he managed to keep his voice from cracking as he continued, "It can't, it mustn't wait."

"Matthew, I," began Lavinia but was interrupted by Matthew saying, "Please, let me finish." He took a deep breath to steady himself, then proceeded with the words he knew he had to say, yet didn't want to because he knew they would break her heart, and his. "Lavinia, I-I love you, but you shouldn't love me anymore, because … because of how I am now."

"I don't care if you can't walk," Lavinia said softly. "You must think me very feeble if you think that would make a difference."

"I know. It wouldn't," Matthew began as a tear trickled down his cheek. He moved his hand, despite wincing slightly at the pain the motion caused, to wipe it away. "And I love you so much for saying it. There's something else, something which may not have occurred to you." He stopped for a few moments, trying to figure out exactly how to word his next statement. After a few seconds of silence, he continued in a husky voice, "We can never be properly married."

"What?" asked Lavinia in disbelief. "Of course we can be married."

"Not properly," Matthew repeated, hoping she'd understand what he was trying to tell her. He couldn't tell her directly. It would be too painful for the both of them. He couldn't stand to tell her as bluntly as Clarkson had told him. He was grateful that the doctor had been blunt with him, even though he hated him for it too, but it was impossible for him to be blunt about he same subject with the person who'd feel its greatest affects. Not that this news wasn't horrible for him as well. No, now he knew that this news was far worse than what he had been told the previous day. He knew that he'd be able to accept that life, someday, far down the road; but this life, this life of never loving in the way he had dreamed of loving his fiancé, was gone forever, and he would never be able to accept it.

"Oh," Lavinia said after a long pause, as realization dawned on her. "I see."

"That's why I have to let you go," Matthew said as he struggled to keep his voice steady. He couldn't break down, not now, not while he was telling this to Lavinia. He knew it had already happened a few minutes previously, but it couldn't happen again.

"But … that side of things, it's not important to me, I promise," Lavinia said desperately.

Matthew knew what she was trying to do, and he loved her for it, but he couldn't let her. He couldn't let her throw her life away to simply be with him as he was. He was a cripple, no matter what Sybil said; physically, medically speaking, he was a cripple. "My darling, it's not important now, but it will be. And it should be," Matthew said as he desperately struggled to keep calm, but the tears, so long forced back, finally made their appearance. He had to continue though; he couldn't stop, not now. He blinked hard a few times as he tried to clear his vision and at last, he managed to continue in a broken voice. "I couldn't possibly be responsible for stealing away the life you ought to have." Even though he didn't have a life, he couldn't take away the life of the one he loved. It was selfish of him. No matter what anyone thought, Lavinia, Mary, himself, he couldn't allow anyone to be tied to him. Even though he didn't want to, even though something was telling him he shouldn't, he knew Lavinia had to leave if she was to have a proper life.

"I won't leave you," said a determined Lavinia as she leaned forward to take his hand. "I know you think I'm weak and that I don't know what I'm taking on."

"How could you for God's sake?" Matthew interrupted, once again trying in vain to keep the tears at bay. They merely trickled, out, but they were coming. He wouldn't be able to keep the flood back for much longer. God, why, why? Why did he have to go through this new hell? No one could understand what was going on, no one! He didn't even understand what was going on or why. Why couldn't she just listen? He couldn't repeat himself, not now or ever.

"I'm not saying it will be easy for either of us," Lavinia continued, her statement jarred Matthew back into reality. "But just because something isn't easy, doesn't mean it isn't right."

"I won't fight with you," Matthew responded flatly. "But I won't steal away your life. Go home. Think of me as dead. Remember me as I was. You cannot stay. I cannot keep you in a life that would force you to be childless. Think of me as the strong, handsome soldier you laid eyes on in London, not the weak, pitiful, invalid I've become." There, he had said it. Dammit, why had he said that? It wasn't tr… no, no matter what Sybil said, it was true. She couldn't possibly believe that the body didn't have to do with who the man was. She was a nurse for heaven's sake!

"Matthew, don't!" Lavinia protested.

"Just go!" Matthew commanded harshly. "Leave me, and have the life you deserve to have."

He turned his gaze away from her, not wanting to see her face. He knew he had hurt her, but this was for the best. He would hurt her more if they stayed together. She would end up hating him. This way, they were at least parting as friends, at least, he thought so and hoped so.

He heard her get up from the chair and move away, but he didn't turn his head to follow her. Once he was certain she was gone from him, he allowed the full flood of tears he had been struggling to hold back ever since Clarkson had told him the news, to fall.


	4. A Painful Conversation

**Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or the dialogue that is taken directly from the show.**

Later that evening after having travelled up to London to talk to Sir Richard about prohibiting Mrs Bates from publishing the story of her scandal, and thankfully her efforts were successful, Mary was walking towards her room when she heard a cry from the room Lavinia was staying in. She knocked gently on the door, and then entered.

"Lavinia?" she asked gently. "What's wrong?"

"Matthew's told me to go home," Lavinia said in an unsteady voice. "He says he won't see me again. He feels as if he has to 'set me free' as he put it. I tried to tell him I don't care, but he wouldn't listen."

Mary had been listening to Lavinia in shock and surprise and by the time she had finished, Mary couldn't stand by the door any longer, so she entered the room and went and sat down on the bed next to Lavinia. "Then you must keep telling him," she stated.

Lavinia looked up at Mary and she knew that there was something more, something besides Matthew not walking as she knew Lavinia wouldn't leave Matthew for a reason as simple as that. She had no idea what it could be, but judging from Lavinia's reaction, it had to be something important.

"Yes, but you see, it isn't just the walking," Lavinia explained. "Today he told me we can never be lovers because that's gone as well. I didn't realize. It's probably obvious to anyone with half a brain."

Mary looked at Lavinia in shock. She couldn't believe what she had just been told. Poor Matthew, how it must have been horrible to hear that and he had had to hear it alone. That had to have been what Doctor Clarkson had pulled her father aside to say. No wonder he had looked so shocked. "No," she murmured for lack of anything else to say. As she sat down on the bed net to Lavinia she added, "Nor did I." She honestly hadn't realized the full implications of Matthew's injury. She was grateful she hadn't known about them yesterday, because otherwise she probably would have been the bearer of that news as well. Tearing down one part of his life had been horrible enough, but she would have been unable to tear down a second. And, as Granny said, sometimes it was best to let the blow fall in pieces.

"And he feels it would be a crime to tie me down," Lavinia continued as she tried to wipe away the unrelenting tears. "He thinks I'd hate him in the end because we can't have children. I'm sorry if I shocked you, but there's no one else I can talk to about it and when you came in…"

"I'm not shocked," Mary interrupted, "I'm just stunned. And desperately sad." And that was true. She was stunned and sad, both for Lavinia and for herself. Now neither of them would get Matthew, who happened to be the man of their dreams for them both.

Lavinia lifted her tear-stained face and looked right at Mary. "I'll die if I can't be with him."

Mary looked at the girl she had once thought she'd hate because she had taken Matthew away from her, but one look at Lavonia's face and she knew that she truly loved Matthew. "Lavinia, I'll do my best to see if I can make Matthew see sense." And I'll try to convince him that he should keep you, she silently added, though a small part of her wanted him to take her back instead, but she knew that would never happen.

"Thank you," Lavinia answered in a small voice. "I'm sorry I disturbed you."

"You didn't," Mary assured. "You can't. You're a sweet lady, a better one than I, and I know that you'll take good care of Matthew, if he should take you back."

"Do you think he will?"

"I don't know," Mary answered. At one point, she probably would have answered surely, but now she was no longer certain of how Matthew thought. War changed everyone, that much she knew, but she didn't know how much it changed people. "I'm sure it was just … just some way of trying to … trying to cope."

"I hope so," Lavinia said. "I need him and, and he needs me."

* * *

After Lavinia left and after all of his tears were gone, Matthew didn't know what to do, well, what to think about, as that was the only thing he could do. Oh, God, how he wished his mother was here … and his father. That thought suddenly jolted him. His father! He hadn't thought about, no, hadn't wished his father's presence in a long time. It had been nearly seventeen years since he had died. Matthew had been almost ready to go to university at the time and his father's death had hit him very hard. Now, in this world of bustling doctors and nurses, for the first time in several years, Matthew needed his father. True, his father wouldn't understand precisely what he was going through, but his father had been a doctor, and it was because of that fact that Matthew knew he needed him. "Father," he murmured under his breath. "Why? Why can't you be here? Why'd you have to die?" He hadn't asked that question in so long, in fact, Matthew was wondering if he had ever even asked that specific question. Here and now, there wasn't anything anyone could do; there wasn't anyone who could comfort him, but Matthew knew that the one physical person who could do it properly was his father. There wasn't anyone else who knew him, had known him, like his father. Far into the night, until he drifted off to sleep, Matthew dug through his memory trying to remember anything and everything that had to do with his father. It brought a strange sort of comfort to him, almost as if his father was there with him. He knew he wasn't there, but a small part of him hoped that at least his father knew what had happened; he hoped that his father was there with him in spirit.

* * *

The next day, Mary went to the hospital to try and talk some sense into Matthew, but a few lines into their conversation, she knew she had been beaten, but she still hoped that Matthew would see sense.

"Matthew, why did you send Lavinia away?" Mary asked, hoping that bluntness might help her get a direct answer out of him.

"You know why," Matthew answered her as he kept his eyes shut. He couldn't let her see the hurt that was in them or the pain. It was ironic really, he couldn't feel half his body, but the part that he could feel was always in pain. He knew that meant healing, but oh how he wished the pain would just leave. He knew that wasn't to be though. The pain in his body would eventually leave, and it was diminished by the morphine, but the pain in his heart would always be there and there was nothing that could dull it. It would never fully heal and he wondered if it would ever even begin to heal.

"No, I don't know why," Mary gently replied, even though she did because Lavinia had told her. She needed to hear the words come from Matthew though, in order to truly believe that he had said them as they didn't seem like something the Matthew she knew, or thought she knew, would say.

"She's better off in London," Matthew stated, though he hated himself for saying those words. Yes, Lavinia was better off in London, but was it better off for her or for him? He knew how hurt she had been, but he had convinced himself that it was for her own good. But was it that way, truly? Well, what difference did it make? She would have eventually decided to leave on her own after seeing what all would have been required of her to do for him, and the fact that there was next to nothing he could do for her. No matter who it was for, it had been better that he had sent her away.

"If you say so," Mary sighed, at last admitting defeat. She wished that Matthew could understand that in some cases love triumphed over everything else people saw in a marriage.

"Do you know why I sent her away?" he asked. He hoped that she did, that way he wouldn't have to explain himself again. He knew he wouldn't stand being able to do it, let alone with Mary.

"I think so," Mary answered slowly.

"Then you'll know I couldn't marry her. Not now. I couldn't marry any woman." Not even you, he added silently. He desperately wished that he could still get married or better still, be married. Why, Mary, why did you refuse me four years ago? If only she had accepted him, then there wouldn't be this situation. He had turned to Lavinia partly out of desperation, it was a war-time romance, and partly out of spite. He wanted to prove to Mary that he could move on. Perhaps he had done a bit too good of a job there. He thought he had loved Lavinia, and he did, but not in the proper kind of love for marriage. He still wondered if Mary loved him and if he loved her, but he knew the latter part to be true. However, he quickly dismissed those thoughts from his mind. It no longer mattered who he loved, or who loved him, as there was no possible way he would tie anyone down to be with him for the rest of his life. And why was he thinking about Mary? He might still love her, but it was obvious she had moved on, just as he had tried to move on. He shouldn't even be thinking like that. Even if Mary was free, he still couldn't take her right after sending Lavinia away.

Matthew turned and looked straight into Mary's eyes as he said the last sentence and then he mentally scolded himself for doing such an action. Mary held back a gasp as she wondered if Matthew still loved her. She still loved him; that was true and was beginning to regret refusing his proposals, but she couldn't have accepted him, not without telling him of her infidelity. Well, it was too late now, on both their accounts. The announcement of her engagement to Sir Richard had been announced in the papers that very morning, and as Matthew had so eloquently put it, he couldn't marry any woman, but that was only what he believed. She thought differently and yes, so did Lavinia. She was determined not to give up, but she was now beginning to doubt whether or not Matthew ever could come to his senses in this regard.

"And if they should just want to be with you? On any terms?" she asked, knowing that's what Lavinia had said, but the same was true for her. There as a small part of her heart that hoped Matthew would relent, but she knew how stubborn Matthew was.

"No one sane would want to be with me as I am now," Matthew replied dejectedly as he tried to keep his voice steady. "Including me." But then, I'm not sane, he added mentally. No one withstood the horrors of war without loosing some part of his sanity. Despite everything that had been going on, ever since that first night, he hadn't had a single thought of gaining freedom by choosing death. He never could make that choice. It would hurt too many people. Merely the thought of what so many young soldiers in similar predicaments did, made Matthew feel ill. It took a few seconds for him to realize that he truly was about to be sick.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he moaned. In a flash, Mary, who had been thinking about the young blinded soldier who had taken his life and hoping that Matthew wasn't contemplating the same action, had grabbed the nearby basin and helped him lean over the side of the bed. She continued to wonder what was going on in his mind as she said while rubbing his back, "It's all right. It's going to be all right." She was certain it couldn't be what it sounded like at the surface level: he still had a life, a loving mother, a home to come home to, and a family.

As she was cleaning his face, Matthew began to laugh in a rather sarcastic tone. "What is it?" she asked, wondering what could cause this reaction.

"It seems just a short time since I turned you down," he said, remembering when Mary had asked if he would have stayed at Downton if she had accepted him. He knew he wouldn't have stayed, as he still would have had to do his duty towards his country. "Now look at me, an impotent cripple stinking of sick. What a reversal. I wonder what it's all for."

"All that matters is that you're here," Mary assured, not wanting to berate Matthew for his choice of words at the moment. She too knew of the incident he was referring to. She had lost rack of how many times she wished she had accepted him when he had given her the chance. He would soon realize there was much more to him than simply the fact he couldn't use his legs. She, like everyone else at Downton was simply thankful that Matthew was back alive, even if he was permanently injured. "And you survived the war. That's enough for now."

"Mary," Matthew murmured, relishing the feeling of her touch. That wasn't right, he should have enjoyed Lavinia's touch more, but he couldn't. Not now, when he had finally realized that it was still Mary he loved, though it was much too late to realize that. He couldn't marry anyone ever. He had to realize that, and he had to accept the fact that Mary was now engaged to someone else.

"Yes?"

"I-I want you to know that, that as much … as much as I hate it, I… I wouldn't end it," he stuttered. He had seen the look of sheer horror in her eyes and knew that it had been his sudden bought of sickness that had saved him from hearing the same lecture from Mary that he had heard form Sybil on his first night in the hospital. He still hated his existence, but he wouldn't finish it off, more so for the sake of his mother than for himself.

"Thank you, Matthew," Mary replied quietly, though extremely relieved. She hadn't thought that Matthew would do something so drastic, but she was thankful to know that he wouldn't. "I should let you get some rest," she said as she stood up. "You're starting to look tired."

Matthew wouldn't admit it, but he was starting to feel a bit sleepy. He knew it had to do with the fact his body was using all its energy towards cleaning. After all, he wasn't doing anything that would normally tire himself.

She got up to leave and as she was exiting the room, she saw Isobel. "You're back," she exclaimed quietly, but in delight "He'll be so pleased."

"You've become quite a nurse since I last saw you," Isobel said.

It's nothing," Mary responded, knowing that to Isobel, her sacrifice meant a great deal. It had been a hard couple of days for Matthew, Lavinia, her family, and for herself, but she knew they would have been even harder if she hadn't turned into Matthew's nurse. Now, with his mother's return, she was certain the worst had to be over. At any rate, she knew Matthew would improve simply with the presence of his mother.

As she walked off, she heard Isobel say quietly, "It's the very opposite of nothing."

Matthew watched Mary walk off, but before the sound of her footsteps had completely disappeared, someone else appeared in his line of vision. He stared at her for a few brief seconds before gasping, "Mother." He couldn't believe that she was here, but she was, right? He hadn't already fallen asleep, had he? He moved his hand to pinch his thigh, but stopped, knowing that wouldn't do anything. He'd simply have to hope that this was real.

"I'm here, Matthew, I'm here," Isobel said as she quickly sat down next to her son and took his hand. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Mother," Matthew repeated again. He was on the verge of tears, but this time they weren't tears of mourning or of pain, but tears of relief. He never thought he would be so glad to see her, or so relieved to be able to say that word. He looked up into his mother's eyes and saw that they were filled with love and relief, not pity, and for that he was extremely grateful. His last thought as he drifted off was how calming the presence of his mother was.

**A/N I've just realized that this is the second chapter that ends with Matthew falling asleep. Hopefully this won't happen very many more times, but this seemed like the best place to end it. Oh, and we're finished with episode 2.5.**


	5. A Recovery Begins

**A/N This chapter takes place between episodes 2.5 and 2.6. I figured that there had to be at least several weeks, if not a month, between the two.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or the dialogue that is taken directly from the show.**

**A/N This chapter takes place between episodes 2.5 and 2.6. I figured that there had to be at least several weeks, if not a month, between the two. Also, I'm starting to near the end of the complete pre-written chapters. Hopefully I can get some more finished quickly so I can stay ahead in writing this story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or the dialogue that is taken directly from the show.**

Gradually the days turned into weeks. Matthew grew steadily stronger, though there was no sign of improvement when it came to everything below his waist, but that was to be expected. For everyone at Downton, these weeks were among the bleakest they had ever known. First, there was Captain Crawley who had been so terribly injured and would never full recover, and then there was young William who had been taken away from them far too early.

One day, about two weeks after Matthew had sent Lavinia away, Mary was siting by his bed. Matthew's most recent accomplishment was being able to sit up, albeit propped up by more pillows than either he or Mary cared to count, and it took two people to get him upright. However, Doctor Clarkson had told Matthew that soon he'd be able to get into a seated position on his own. He just needed to have enough strength in his arms.

"Doctor Clarkson has just told me that if you keep improving at your current rate, you'll be able to try a wheelchair in a week or so," Mary said gently.

Matthew only acknowledged her with a low mumble. He knew that the wheelchair meant a sense of freedom, but it would also be a prison: another reminder of the man he used to be, but no longer was.

"And that means soon you can come home to Downton," she added with a smile.

"Will it ever be my home?" Matthew suddenly asked. Mary opened her mouth to retort, but Matthew raised a hand to silence her. "Yes, I know I'm the heir, but what good is an heir who cannot move about the property on his own? And even if I did become the earl, who would be the next one? I can never father an heir."

"Matthew," Mary said gently. "You'll always have a home at Downton as long as Papa is alive. And don't you question your ability to be the heir. You've still got brains." She was deliberately ignoring she second part of Matthew's worry for no other reason than the fact that it would be quite some time before anyone would have to worry about it.

"Brains," Matthew mused. "Brains, but no body to put them to work with." He had thought that as the days progressed, it would have gotten easier to come to terms with everything and to believe Sybil. Now though, he wasn't so sure. He was still half-expecting to wake up and for this whole experience to be a nightmare.

Mary sighed, knowing that reasoning with her cousin was going to be difficult. "Matthew," she said as she held his hand. "You've still got both your arms and hands. There are so many things you can do with them. In fact, you should see the amount of time Papa spends at his desk rifling through papers and doing heaven knows what."

"There's more to being an earl than papers," retorted Matthew. "There's a presence. A presence your father has and I don't because for the rest of my life I'll be confined to either a bed or a wheelchair. What good is an earl of that nature?"

"Matthew," Mary began again, but once again he cut her off.

"Don't 'Matthew' me," he said curtly as he jerked his hand away. Then stopped when he saw the look on her face. "It's just … I can't … I don't know how to live anymore! I-I'm not even sure if I want to live!" Dammit, he had said that again. He never wanted to say it, especially as it wasn't true, but it just kept coming out. He hoped Mary remembered that he had told her he would never end it, but wasn't so sure when he looked into her eyes.

She was eying him very sternly. Mary quickly got up from the chair and sat down on the bed. She took the hand nearest her and held it tightly so as not to let him jerk it away again. "Don't ever say something like that again," she commanded. "I know you don't mean it, but never say that again."

Matthew looked slightly frightened and suddenly he felt very ashamed. He knew that he shouldn't have said what he did, and he didn't want to say it, but what did she know? She hadn't had her life taken away like he had had. What good was he? He was a worthless cripple. For goodness sake, he was only thirty-three years old! He supposedly had a good forty or so years left in him and he did not want to spend them stuck in a wheelchair! He knew Mary was right when she said he had a life. Yes, he was alive thanks to young William Mason, but was this existence a life? He looked around at the other soldiers in the hospital. Some of them were nearly better. They'd go back to almost normal lives. Others, those with severe burns or missing limbs would never be able to recover. They'd never be able to go back to their lives, not their normal ones. Well, he was among those who could go back to their lives. But at the same time, it wouldn't be his life anymore. What could a cripple do for a life? Mary was right that Downton would always be there for him as long as Cousin Robert was alive, but what about when he was gone? There was no chance of him being a proper earl, so why be an earl at all?

"Matthew?" Mary asked gently. "You're thousands of miles away. Come back."

"Sorry," he apologized. "And I'll try not to say that again. I-I don't want to say it. I don't mean it, but it just comes out. It's just … I'm so confused. I don't know who I am anymore. Am I Captain Crawley the soldier? Matthew Crawley the lawyer? Heir to the Earl of Grantham? … Who am I, Mary?"

"You're Cousin Matthew," Mary replied gently, not letting any of her shock from his ramble show in her expression. "You might be all those other things as well, but first and foremost, you're family."

* * *

About a week later, Doctor Clarkson pronounced Matthew strong enough to try spending a few hours a day in the wheelchair. Sybil brought the chair close to the bed and she, along with Clarkson and his mother, carefully lifted Matthew out of his bed and into the chair. Matthew tried to keep from thinking about what was going on, but he couldn't. Here was more proof that he was helpless. He couldn't do a thing for himself from the bed and it took three people to get him into a chair. Would it always be like this? If it were to be that way, he didn't think he could stand the humiliation of being lifted everywhere. He knew he didn't have a choice, but most of his body was dead weight now and he hated that fact.

"Oof," Matthew said as he plopped down, the wind slightly knocked out of him. He hadn't exactly been prepared for the amount of effort it took to get into the chair, even though he barely did anything.

"Are you all right?" Sybil asked quickly.

"Yes, just banged my elbow on the armrest," Matthew answered, not wanting to let her know how much the slight movement had exhausted him, even though he hadn't done anything other than letting himself get lifted. "I couldn't feel any other part of me that landed hard."

"I'm thankful that you still have your sense of sarcasm," Mary said with a soft smile. It was nice to have a little bit of the old Matthew back. He also looked a little more like himself now that he was no longer in the bed propped up by countless pillows, though there still was one behind him in the wheelchair. The fact that his back was strong enough to allow him to sit up with little support was very good indeed. Of course, he was still leaning rather heavily on the backrest of the wheelchair, but someday he wouldn't have to completely rely on that for back support.

"It feels so strange to be out of that bed," Matthew said softly. "It's so frightening and reliving at the same time." If only he was sitting in an actual chair and not this blasted wheelchair. On the other hand, he knew that he would someday see this wheelchair as a means of freedom, but for now, it was still a prison, a reminder of the man he no longer was. He was thankful to be out of the bed, but he still felt extremely confined. Oh, how he hoped that that feeling would go away. He knew he was stuck like this for the rest of his life, but a small, independent part of him hoped that it wasn't true. He wondered why, and for neither the first nor the last time, he tried to quench the hope.

"Now, remember, you're not supposed to spend more than an hour or two in the chair for the first few days," Sybil reminded him as she tucked a blanket around his legs. Why he needed a blanket was beyond him. He couldn't feel down there, so therefore his legs couldn't get cold. He didn't dare to question Sybil at the moment though. Perhaps he could ask her later, but she'd probably have some strange explanation or other that wouldn't make sense to him.

"Yes, Nurse Crawley," Matthew responded with a slight smile. At least he was getting the chance to call her that directly.

Sybil let out a light laugh, one that neither Matthew nor Mary had heard for quite some time. "Take it easy," she said as she gently touched his shoulder, "after all, we want you to come home as soon as possible."

Matthew nodded and watched his cousin head to another part of the hospital where she was needed. "I never thought I'd see the day one of your sister's doing hard manual labour," he murmured softly.

"You should have seen Mama and Papa's faces when she told them," Mary said with a laugh. "You would have thought she had said she was going to marry the chauffeur."

"Well, that's I one thing I cannot imagine Sybil doing," mused Matthew, "but it must've been quite the surprise to get that type of reaction out of them."

"Rest assured, it was," Mary stated. "Now, let's get you to another room so you can see a different view."

"There won't be much difference in the other rooms," Matthew stated matter-of-factly. "It's a hospital."

"True, but perhaps we can find a window you can look out of," admitted Mary. "I'd take you outside, but Doctor Clarkson has forbidden it. He says you need to get stronger before you can leave the building."

"I practically lived outside for the last four years," Matthew mumbled in a low voice. "I can't get used to being indoors. And, no thank you, I don't want to move until I'm a little more used to sitting in this basted wheelchair."

"The faster you get better, the faster you can be outdoors," Mary replied gently, ignoring his choice of language.

Matthew slowly nodded. He needed to give Mary some type of response, even though he highly doubted he'd eve be 'better', at least, in his sense of the word. "Better," he muttered. "What is 'better'? I'm never going to fully heal."

"You just need to get your strength back," Mary answered calmly. "As much as you possibly can."

"What I would give for simply being able to do something on my own," sighed Matthew. "I can't roll over, sit up, or even move more than my arms and head without help. Every single thing I do, every single thing I will do in life, will involve help from someone in some way, shape, or form."

"Now, Matthew, you don't know that yet," scolded Isobel. "You will regain some of your independence. I dare say that you will be able to roll over, get yourself into a seated position, and perhaps even move from your bed to your wheelchair or back on your own, or with very limited assistance someday."

"Someday," Matthew muttered impatiently. "Someday. Ha, never."

"Matthew," Isobel said firmly. "Don't talk like that."

"Mother, believe it," Matthew retorted. "I'm practically helpless and always will be." He couldn't even do the simplest tasks for himself and he doubted that he ever would be able to do them, no matter what his mother said. He knew he'd never be able to be independent again, so why should he even try to do things if he would never be able to do everything that constituted a life.

"How many times have we told you to stop calling yourself helpless?" wondered Mary. "You're not. You just need to find the abilities that you still have. You've got a brain, so use it." She knew she had told him this multiple times over the past two weeks, but Matthew still hadn't accepted the idea. She wondered how much longer it would take him.

"Mary's right you know," Isobel pointed out. "Your injury hasn't taken away your ability to think. Now, I suggest you figure out some way to use that ability."

He could still think. Mary had told him that before, but he still didn't know if he quite believed her. It was true he could think, but would anyone accept the thoughts of a cripple? He might only be crippled in the physical form, but so many people treated everyone with a disability, physical or otherwise, as if they were two. Did he want to do something with his brains if he would be treated like that? He was brought out of his thoughts by Mary's voice.

"Matthew," she said gently.

"What?" Matthew asked quickly as he shook of his thoughts.

"If I recall correctly, you were a lawyer before coming to Downton," Mary began, hoping that Matthew would pick up on where she was going. If she was right, this would at least get him willing to think about his future in a different light than he currently was using.

"True," Matthew said, wondering where his cousin was going with this conversation.

"Well, that profession seems to require mainly brains," finished Mary. _Come on, Matthew_, she begged inwardly. _Figure this out_.

Matthew stared at her in confusion for a full five seconds, before realization dawned on him. "You mean, I should go back to that?" he asked tentatively.

"Only if you want to," added Mary. "Of course, it wouldn't be for some time yet as you need to get out of the hospital and recover a bit more at Downton, but you surely could do that."

"But what would Robert say?" Matthew asked awkwardly. He knew that his cousin had disapproved of him working at the firm when he first arrived, but it was a way of life that he couldn't stop. Now though, he hadn't been involved in law for the past four years due to serving in France. Also, he couldn't just up and leave Downton, even though he knew he shouldn't be the next heir. However, the idea appealed to him greatly. Only a few minutes ago he had thought he was one hundred percent helpless and would always be that way, but if what Mary said was true, perhaps there was some extremely small way he could be in control.

"Never you mind," Isobel said firmly. "When the time comes, we can deal with him. I do know that he won't prevent you from doing something that you both enjoy and are able to do. If going back to your old profession for a time would suit you, I'm certain Robert would make it happen."

"Thanks," Matthew said softly. His back was starting to ache and he knew it was time he lay down again. A quick glance around the room told him that the only people available to help were his mother and Mary. He sighed, wishing he didn't have to impose this request on them. Why did everything physical have to involve embarrassment on his part? "Uh, can … can you help me back into bed?" he asked rather awkwardly, wishing that Doctor Clarkson was available to help.

"Certainly," the both of them answered. Mary carefully adjusted his chair so it was nearer the bed.

"Are you ready?" she asked quietly.

"I guess," Matthew admitted, but the truth was, he never was ready for these things and he probably never would be. Physically he was ready to be moved, but mentally, he wasn't prepared.

Mary braced herself as she wrapped her arms around Matthew's chest while Isobel took her son's legs. Together, along with a bit of puffing, they managed to successfully transfer Matthew out of the wheelchair and back into the bed.

Mary carefully avoided looking Matthew directly in the eye during this transfer because she knew she would see embarrassment and she had a feeling there would be pity in her glance and she didn't want him to see that.

Once he was settled and in a half-reclined position, Matthew asked, "Mary?"

"Yes, Matthew?"

"Did you honestly believe that I could still be a lawyer?" He still couldn't believe she had said such a thing. It hadn't even crossed his mind. He had been so certain that there wouldn't be anything available for him to do and he'd spend the rest of his life living off of the help of others. Now though, if there was even the slightest chance of him handling some job, he knew he had to try to do it.

"Of course," Mary said, astonished that Matthew could ask such a thing of her, but then, she hadn't always been the most trusted person. "I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't believed it."

"Thank you," Matthew said, "I really mean it. If there's something out there that I can live for, something that I know I can do well, I know I'll try to strive for it. Perhaps Sybil was right after all."

"Right about what?" wondered Mary.

"Th-that n-night," Matthew stuttered as he remembered the horrible night in which his world turned upside down, "she told me that what truly matters about a person is in the heart, not the body."

"And she's right," Isobel said gently. "Matthew, you may think you're a completely different person, and in some ways that is true. But to me, you're still my son and you always will be. That part hasn't change. The true you, the you that is inside your body, is still my son, Matthew Crawley. No matter what physical changes occur, you're still the same you on the inside. You're still the same person, but just a bit different."

Matthew smiled halfheartedly at his mother's statement. He wanted to believe her, but didn't know if he could. Part of what she said was true, but he knew he had changed on the inside as well as the outside. His heart and soul were still there, but now they made a different man; a man who had grown old before his time. "Mother, I'm not the boy that went off to war," Matthew began, but Isobel cut him off.

"I know," she said gently. "I know there are changes to who you are on both the outside and on the inside."

"Then why did you say I'm still the same me when you know I'm not?" asked Matthew a bit impatiently.

Isobel sighed before answering, "Because Matthew, the fact that you're my son overrides any changes that may have occurred. Like it or not, you're stuck with me as your mother."

His mother's last statement managed to get a chuckle out of Matthew. "Sometimes …," he began, then paused.

"Sometimes what?" prompted Mary, who was interested as to what direction this conversation was going in.

"Sometimes I wonder what it is all for," Matthew began, then before he knew it, a flurry of words was escaping from his mouth. "This whole blasted war started over the assassination of the Austro-Hungarian throne. Yes, that was anything but minor, but why did such a small event cause the greatest war in the history of mankind? What is the purpose of this blasted war? I thought it was to provide a better future for the next generation, but now I honestly don't know."

"Some things aren't meant to be known," Mary said simply, "at least not until their appointed time."

"I would like to know what the purpose of all of our sacrifices was," continued Matthew. "Why all of the deaths, the injuries, the forever changed men? Did they have a purpose?"

"I can say there is a purpose," Isobel stated, "but I'm afraid that no one yet knows what the purpose is and no one might know for quite a long time."


	6. An Unadmitted Feeling

**Sorry for the length of time between updates, but I had a lot of work to do on this chapter, plus a ton of homework. Sometimes I wonder if I'm insane for doing the honour's programme, which involves an average 300 pages of reading per week.**

**Also, I've pushed up some of the events in the show because there is a lot that I need to do that's original that takes place between 2.5 (which happens in August) and 2.6 (which happens in November). I needed to have a few scenes from 2.6 here in order for future chapters to make sense. Sorry if this causes any confusion.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or the dialogue that is taken directly from the show.  
**

Three weeks later, Matthew was pronounced strong enough to go to Downton. He knew that it was a convalescent home for officers, but it was more than that to him. In his time at the hospital and with all of his conversations with Mary, he had realized just how important Downton was to him. Yes, he might not become the earl (if they could find another relation, that would probably be best), but it was still a place where he had found happiness. He wondered if he'd ever be happy again, but he knew that if he were to find happiness again, it would be at Downton. After all, according to Aristotle, happiness was found in the end that people sought, or at least it was something along those lines. He couldn't remember exactly what the philosopher had written, but that seemed to be the essence of it.

One afternoon in his first week back at Downton, he and Mary were out for a walk. Well, Mary was walking; he was being pushed and he hated that fact. He had always been one to stand tall and erect, hardly every slouching, but now he was stuck in this vile wheelchair. He was grateful that he was here and alive, but he wished he weren't stuck in the wheelchair. On his first night back at Downton, it had suddenly hit him how great William's sacrifice had been. The young lad had saved his life. Matthew didn't remember how, but he had been told that when they had been found, William had been on top of him, shielding him from the blast. Was he grateful to the young footman for saving his life or was he envious? William was gone. He was in a peaceful place now, a place without suffering and pain. And here he was, alive, but only half a man. Here were all these men, suffering in ways that no one would be able to understand and this suffering would never end. Yes, they would all heal to a certain degree, but for many of them, they would live with the handicap that came with their injury for the rest of their lives. As much as Matthew hated the wheelchair, his paralysis, and the helplessness it left him with, he knew he had to get used to it because that was his life now, but he also knew that he'd never fully get used to life like this.

That afternoon, he had tried to reason with Mary that he was strong enough to wheel himself, but he had lost the argument. Of course, one was almost always guaranteed to loose an argument with Mary Crawley. He knew he should have known that from all his previous arguments with her, but he still had tried. He might not be able to move from bed to chair yet on his own (would he ever?), or even dress aside from his shirt for that matter, but he needed to find some part of his daily life that he could do independently, even if it was just something small. Surely he was strong enough to wheel himself a short distance. After all, he needed to get used to it.

Matthew thought back to when he first arrived at Downton and how he had refused to allow Mosley to dress him. It was ironic now as he now needed help with every little thing, though he desperately hoped he'd be able to regain enough independence that he would be able to do some self-sufficient tasks.

Mary began to talk about the house that Sir Richard was planning on buying and she seemed to be complaining about how big it was. She could tell that Matthew was starting to enter one of his self-pitying moods and she knew that she needed to get him out of it.

"Can we stop?" he asked suddenly. "I'd much rather see your face when we're talking." He hated having a conversation with someone who was behind him. It just felt wrong. Mary obliged and pulled up near a bench. She parked his chair and went around to sit. "So will he buy it?" he asked, not knowing if he was hoping a negative or a positive answer.

"Probably," Mary admitted. "He says he wants to steal Carson to come and run it for us."

Matthew laughed at the very idea of Carson leaving Downton Abbey. That was as unlikely as him ever feeling anything below his waist again, which meant it was impossible. "I don't envy you telling your Papa," he said.

"Suppose Carson won't do it," suggested Mary.

"I don't think there's anything he wouldn't do for you," Matthew pointed out. He knew that Carson and Mary had a very special relationship that was probably nearly as close to friendship as was possible for a butler and an earl's daughter.

"I don't have to marry him, you know," Mary said softly. She hoped ever so slightly that Matthew might get the hidden message in her words. She didn't have to marry Sir Richard if she and Matthew could get back together.

"Yes, you do," insisted Matthew, though he was wondering exactly why he was saying that as he had a very negative view of the man Mary was engaged to. "If I thought for a moment that I was in argument against your marriage I would jump into the nearest river." Once the words were out of his mouth, Matthew wondered why he had said them. Of course, he didn't really like Sir Richard, but then, he didn't know the man yet, beyond a bad first impression. And secondly, how would he jump into a river when he couldn't stand, let alone not being allowed to wheel himself anywhere?

Mary seemed to be thinking on the same lines because she said rather dryly, "And how would you managed that without my help?"

"You could push me in," joked Matthew, but his heart wasn't in it. There were so many things mentioned on a daily basis that involved mobility, mobility he didn't have and never would have, and he'd never get used to discussing them without some type of forlornness. But he quickly found his composure and continued. "The only reason I can relax is that I know you have a real life coming," he said. "I've nothing to give or share. If you were not engaged to be married, I wouldn't let you anywhere near me." _But, I still want you, Mary_, he added silently.

"You don't mean that," Mary said quietly, though she knew that he probably did.

"I do mean it," Matthew stated as firmly as he could. "Look at me! I don't have a way of supporting a wife, I can't be a lover, and I can't father children!"

"Those things don't matter," Mary stated as firmly as she could. "Not as much as you think they do. The estate is strong enough to support a family and Lavinia told me that the things you can't do don't matter to her. She wants to be with you on any terms." _And so do I,_ she added quietly to herself. She sighed, if only she had accepted Matthew's proposal all those years ago. They'd be married, and perhaps even with one or two children of their own. And that would mean that they wouldn't be having this conversation.

"Mary," Matthew said, then stopped. He didn't want to have this argument. He hadn't wanted to have it with Lavinia and he certainly didn't want to have it with Mary.

"Yes, Matthew?" prompted Mary.

"It's nothing," he quickly said looking down at his lap. He dug his fingers into his knee, hoping to feel some sort of sensation, but it was not to be. He knew that he couldn't hope, yet at the same time, he still did. "Can we go inside?" he asked. "It seems to get be getting a bit chilly."

"Certainly," Mary answered.

That night after dinner, they had a family gathering in the sitting room. Once Lord Grantham had said that he didn't want to be overheard, Granny quickly asked whether this conversation had anything to do with finical ruin or criminal investigation, to which Lord Grantham, replied, "Neither."

"What then?" asked Sybil.

"We have a patient, who has been badly burned, who's name is Patrick Gordon, but he claims to be Patrick Crawley."

Immediately, everyone looked around the room with stunned expressions on their faces. Matthew bent his head down and massaged his temples. This couldn't be happening. Everything that he valued in life was slowly being taken away: Mary, his legs, Lavinia, now Downton. At least he still had Mother. Well, maybe that was his wish come true, another relative. But now that it was true, he regretted that wish. He needed to hold on to the little security he still had.

"But didn't he drown on the Titanic?" asked Isobel in confusion.

"That's what we were told," Lord Grantham explained, "but this Gordon claims to have been picked up by a lifeboat and accidentally sent to Canada. The reason he didn't come back here straight away was that he claims to have suffered from amnesia."

"But how can this be?" asked Mary hurriedly.

"They never found his body," Edith said, her face showing a slight hope that Patrick may have survived.

"They never found lots of bodies," Mary retorted. She couldn't believe this to be true. Not for her sake, but for Matthew's. He had already lost more than most men twice his age had. He couldn't loose his inheritance as well.

"Not to be rude, but who is Patrick Crawley?" asked Sir Richard.

Matthew finally looked up from his lap. "The man who would displace me as heir," he stated. "If he is still alive, I'm no longer the future Earl of Grantham.

"That's impossible," said a flustered Mary. "How can it be true?"

"He said he had amnesia," restated Edith.

"How do we know he's not an imposter?" wondered Sybil.

"He knows all sorts of things that only Patrick or a close friend of his would know," Ethel defended.

"There has to be some way," Cora said at last. "Does he look like Patrick?"

"You can't tell," Mary said. "The burns are so bad, that at moments, it almost doesn't look like anything."

"I've sent his report up to a Murray to look at," Lord Grantham said. "We'll just have to wait and see what he says."

"What's the matter?" Edith suddenly cried out. "We were all found of him. Mary, you were going to marry him!"

Sir Richard looked curiously at Mary and said, "Should I be worried?"

"No," Mary stated firmly. "This man is a fake and an imposter. He will be found out. It's a cruel trick to play when Matthew's been through so much." _Not to mention I didn't love him,_ she silently added. _And I don't love you either_.

"My dear, don't be too quick to decide," said Matthew calmly, almost too calmly. "This might be a blessing in disguise."

"What do you mean?" asked Isobel in shock.

"He might not be much to look at, but he can walk around the estate and sire a string of son's to carry on the line," Matthew said as he struggled to stay calm. If this Patrick fellow had shown up a few months ago when he still had the use of his legs, he knew that he wouldn't have given Downton up without a fight, not without absolute proof at any rate, but now he almost didn't care. He didn't know what he should be thinking. In some ways, he was relieved that there might be a different heir, but in other ways, he still wanted to know that he had the security of Downton. "Sybil, could you please take me back to my room?" Oh, how humbling it was to have to ask someone, a female relative younger than him no less, to take him places.

Mary watched Matthew and Sybil leave. Gradually the others in the room began to disperse as well. She looked down at her lap and let out a sigh. Why did everything have to seem like it was happening at once? It had only been about a month and a half since Matthew had been injured, but it seemed like a lifetime. How could so much happen in so little time? And what was going to happen now? She desperately hoped that whoever this Patrick Gordon was, he would be found to be an imposter and gotten rid of. She knew that Matthew needed some stability and she knew that she needed the stability Matthew's presence offered.

With another sigh, she got up and hurried to her room to be alone.


	7. An Important Question

**_A/N This chapter takes place at the end of October/beginning of November. Sorry for the long wait. I'm going to try to get chapters out faster as I have the next couple written, but between revising them and my regular school work, it's hard to know when one will be updated.  
_**

The next month was spent trying to regain some form of normalcy, though it seemed as if that would be impossible due to all of the changes.

Matthew was still trying to figure out exactly where he belonged. Yes, he was family, but he also was a wounded soldier. He did his best to only stay in the main areas for the convalescence home as he wasn't comfortable with letting everyone know that he was supposed to be the next earl, if this Patrick fellow wasn't who he said he was. Matthew was conflicted in his feelings with regards to Major Gordon. If Gordon was the true heir, then Downton was rightfully his, but if he wasn't, Matthew was determined to come to the bottom of it. He briefly considered sending a note to his friends at the firm, but decided against it. After all, Robert had sent everything to Murray who was more than capable.

One day when he was in a corner of the library with a book, Robert, who had been in the area partitioned off for the family, opened the curtain and asked for him to enter. Matthew looked up in surprise, but a quick glance around showed him that no one had noticed. He manoeuvred his wheelchair into position and slowly rolled into the small, private area, hoping that none of the other soldiers had seen him. He was also grateful that he was finally strong enough to wheel himself for the most part. It meant that in some small way he was starting to gain a sort of independence.

"Is there something you need?" he asked once the curtain had been closed again.

Robert sat down in his chair across from where Matthew had stopped. "I do have a question for you," he said.

"What?" Matthew inquired, wondering what was so important that Robert felt it needed to be asked privately.

"Now, I don't want to try to get your hopes up, but Clarkson is a country doctor, though he is a very good one," Robert stated. "I was wondering what you would think of getting a professional from London to have a look at you."

Matthew eyed Robert sceptically. "Why?"

"Matthew, we don't have to do it if you don't want to, but just in case there is some other explanation …"

"Robert," Matthew interrupted. "I appreciate your concern, but my back is broken. I know what a broken back means. A second opinion wouldn't change anything. It _can't_ change anything." Matthew pounded his hand into his knee for emphasis, though he winced slightly at the pain it caused his hand.

"Matthew, in cases like these, it's always best to get a second opinion, no matter how fruitless it might seem," Robert continued. "Who knows, there could be something we can do to help you."

Matthew looked down at his lap. There was some truth in Robert's statement about how second opinions could be helpful. He remembered that his father always valued a second opinion and always tried to get one. Well, it couldn't hurt to get one as he already knew what the outcome would be. There really only was a single possible outcome. "Very well, I'll do it," he said at last with a long sigh, "but I highly doubt it will change anything."

"Thank you. I'll contact John Cotes," Robert replied. He got up and placed a hand on Matthew's shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. "You have been a brave man through all of this."

"It wasn't me," Matthew said quickly as he looked up at Robert. "If it hadn't been for Mary …" His voice trailed off as he didn't know what he should or could say. Yes, Sybil had been a big encouragement as well, Mary was the one who had spent hours by his bedside reading, talking, or just sitting with him.

"I'm glad she was there for you," Robert finished quietly. "And don't forget, the rest of us are here for you as well. I want you to know, that no matter what happens with this whole Patrick incident, that we're here for you. You're still family."

Matthew nodded in understanding and relief. "There's something that I want to ask of you," he began, then stopped. How should he word this?

"Yes?" prompted Robert, who stepped back and sat down again. Matthew was grateful for that as it meant he was no longer looking up to see Robert's face. It was so awkward to have to look up or talk to someone who was behind him. He much preferred it if whoever he was talking to was sitting down across or next to him. He found it easier to talk to someone if they were at about eye level with one another.

Matthew took a deep breath, as he remembered Robert's startled reaction back in 1912 when he announced his intentions, then continued. "As you know, I used to work as a lawyer. Well, until the time comes for me to become Earl of Grantham, if it ever does, I'd like to go back to doing that." There he had said it and hopefully Robert would understand his reasons. This time it wasn't simply because it was his profession, but because it was a profession he was certain he could still do.

"Is that because that profession is something that you currently are able to do?" inquired Robert after a few seconds of silence.

"Yes," Matthew answered, relieved that this conversation was going differently than the one six years previously. "While I was in the hospital, Mary reminded me time and time again that I still had brains. Going back to being a lawyer hadn't even crossed my mind until she reminded me that that was a job with mainly brains." Matthew still wondered why Mary had encouraged him to speak to Robert about this. After all, she had been rather put off by the idea of being related to a middle-class lawyer and now she wanted him to go back to that profession.

"Do you think you can get back into it?" wondered Robert. "It's been nearly four years since you left the firm for the army."

"I know," Matthew admitted, "but I do hope that I can. I still have some friends on the firm that I could contact. There might be an opening at _Harvell and Carter_ in Ripon, which would allow me to stay here. I'd have to get someone to drive me there, but that should work." He had forgotten that even if he managed to get a job, he still would need help in getting to it. No matter which way he turned in life, there would always be something hampering it from now on. However, he was determined not to give up. In all honesty, he genuinely hadn't wanted to live when Doctor Clarkson had pronounced his sentence, but Mary, Sybil, and his mother had helped him to see otherwise. Even though he still was depressed and in mourning over his legs, he was determined to figure out how to live and adapt and trying to get a job would be one way.

"If you feel as if doing something like that will help you, you're more than welcome to do so," Robert stated. "And I'm certain that Branson would gladly drive you into Ripon as often as you need."

"Thank you," replied a relieved Matthew. He knew that the war had changed everyone and was relieved that Robert no longer thought down on people who actually worked a job. Granted, Sybil probably played a large role in that change. "I wasn't certain what you'd think. I'm not running away from Downton, but I need to do something that I know I can do."

"I hope you can work this out and I can always put in a good word with whatever firm you want to work for."

"I want to try to get in on my own work if possible," Matthew stated firmly. "I don't know how accepting they'll be though because of … because of this." He gestured towards his wheelchair as his voice trailed off. He still couldn't bring himself to say the exact words out loud and wondered if he ever would be able to. "I hope my old friends can look past it and still see me," he finally finished.

"If they're true friends, they will," Robert said firmly. "I know you've been told this multiple times, but you're still Matthew Crawley. Nothing can change that."

"Mother told me that when I was still in the hospital," sighed Matthew, "and I know she's right, but I just struggle to believe it sometimes. I-I feel like I've changed too much to still be me."

Once again, Robert reached forward, this time grasping Matthew's hand. "You may have changed, but you're still our Matthew."

"Thank you," Matthew said again. "I really mean it."

Robert smiled gently. "When are you going to contact _Harvell and Carter_?" he inquired.

Matthew furrowed his brow. He hadn't yet thought of that. "Probably not 'till after the New Year," he said quietly. "I won't be in any fit state to work, even at a desk, for quite some time yet."

"You'll get there," Robert assured as he stood up. Matthew nodded in response and slowly began to wheel himself out and soon settled himself back in his corner with his book.

"What was that about?" wondered Edward Blair, a fellow officer and childhood friend, who had been in the same regiment as Matthew.

"Just trying to figure things out," sighed Matthew. Edward was one of the few who knew just how he was related to the Downton Crawleys, mainly because Matthew knew Edward would keep his secret. "Robert wants me to get a second opinion about my back and I told him I would."

"Well, it can't hurt," Edward replied. "And you should be thankful you have the opportunity to get a second opinion. I know I would have tried to get one if it would have changed anything."

"But your situation was life or death," Matthew replied quietly, remembering the shell blast that had nearly killed his friend which happened mere days before his own injury. "The amputation was the only way to keep the infection from spreading to rest of your body."

"And you're right," Edward finished, as he looked down at the empty space where his right leg should have been. "I know for the both of us, what really matters is that we survived the war, mostly in one piece, and at least both of us have the ability to get some sort of job in the future."

Matthew slowly nodded. "I just wish these fours years hadn't had to happen. Ultimately, there is bound to be some purpose, but right now, nothing is making sense. I just hope that the end is soon. Lord Kitchener was right when he declared the war would last at least three years."

"Everyone is saying that the end is bound to be near," Edward replied. "The Germans are retreating."

"I just hope their right this time and it isn't yet another false hope," sighed Matthew. There had been too many false hopes during the war and they had been there right form the beginning. Deep down Matthew believed the rumours that there was talk of peace, but he wouldn't believe it until it was announced from the War Office.

* * *

Thankfully, the rumours that the war was soon to be over were found to be true as a few days later, Mary was sitting in the small library when an excited Matthew wheeled himself through the doorway. "Matthew!" Mary cried. "You shouldn't be exerting yourself like that." She expected some sort of retort, but Matthew didn't give one. "Is everything all right?" she continued. "Did something happen?"

"Yes, everything is fine," said Matthew breathlessly, "and yes, something wonderful happened."

"What?" asked Mary slowly.

"The war, it's over!"

Mary stared at him in astonishment for several moments. "Truly?" she asked.

Several other recovering soldiers had been in the near vicinity and had heard Matthew. Quickly those who could hurried over as fast as were able and entered the small library, even though that area generally was reserved for family.

"Is it really over?" one of them asked.

"Yes, Charlie, it is," Matthew replied as the first genuine smile in years decorated his face. The past four years had been filled with so much pain and terror, but at last, they were about to be over. The world would be forever different because of the war, but at last, repair could finally start to happen.

He continued, "Well, it isn't legally over, not till the eleventh, but the point is, they're going to sign the Armistice. We won. The sacrifices weren't for naught." His eyes glazed over slightly as he thought about everyone who had died or had been injured in the war. Yes, the Allied forces had won, but the sacrifice had been great, too great.

"Oh, Matthew, that's such wonderful news," cried an elated Mary. She desperately wanted to jump up and hug him, but restrained herself from doing so as she knew that action would be considered improper. "Does Papa know?"

Matthew nodded. "He's the one who told me and he's planning on giving a formal announcement of it after dinner, though by that time most everyone will have heard." He smiled ever so slightly as he remembered his reaction when Robert had told him the war was over. If he hadn't already been in his chair, he knew that he would have collapsed in surprise. At any rate, he had been completely shocked and completely relieved at the same time. He still wasn't entirely certain if he could believe Robert, but he had seen the telegram and knew it was true.

Mary sank down into her chair, full of complete relief. Thank God the war was nearly over. There was a definite end date in sight, though why it couldn't be over right this instant was beyond her. It had probably had something to do with formalities. It had been four long years since the war had started. So many friends had died on the front or had been injured. Was it wrong that she was so relieved that Matthew had returned alive when so many others hadn't?

Matthew slowly rolled closer to Mary. "Mary, is everything all right?" he asked gently as he placed a hand on her knee.

"Oh, Matthew," Mary sighed as she gently placed her hand on top of his, "everything's fine. The war is over, but …" Mary gently fingered his hand as she felt the every so slightly raised scaring that the shrapnel had left. Everyone, even those who had survived the war without any major permanent injuries, had scars.

Matthew nodded, knowing what Mary was thinking and also knowing that there wasn't a need for words at the moment. He doubted that there ever would be a need for words as nothing could ever accurately describe the horrors of the past few years.

"Sometimes I wonder what the point of it all was," he said with a sigh. "All the hurt, all the destruction, all the lives lost or forever changed. Why did it happen?" He paused for a moment, but continued before Mary could speak up. "I know that you're simply going to repeat what you and Mother told me in the hospital: that there is a purpose, but it isn't know yet. I do know that, but I struggle to understand it. … Why was I allowed to survive? And why did it have to be this way?" He was constantly asking himself these questions. Yes, he was grateful to be alive, but what was life when it was reduced to life forever in a wheelchair?

"I don't know," Mary answered simply. "I wish that it didn't have to be the way it is, but I am ever so thankful that you survived and so is the rest of the family." She gave a slight inward shudder at the thought of Matthew not being there. She may never be able to be his wife, her actions and Matthew's determination to not wed had taken care of that, but he was here and wouldn't be going anywhere dangerous ever again.

Matthew looked concernedly at her, but didn't say anything. Gradually the few soldiers who had entered the room left to go spread the news amongst the others in the house, leaving him alone with Mary. Once they were alone, Matthew rolled as close to the sofa as was possible. He desperately wished that he could sit on the sofa like a normal person, but that was not to be. "Mary," he began, then stopped as he wasn't entirely certain how to word what he was about to say. "I just want to tell you that if it hadn't been for you and Sybil during those first dreadful days in the hospital … well, I highly doubt that I would be here today." He had only seriously contemplated taking that drastic action once, but the thought had briefly crossed his mind multiple times. He had a feeling that he never would have acted on it, but still, that thought was that thought.

"Oh, Matthew!" Mary gasped in horror. "I…I…" She was at a loss for words and couldn't figure out what she should say.

"D-Don't say anything," Matthew stammered, "especially to your father. H-He doesn't need to know that."

"I won't. I promise," Mary replied gently. As she rose to her feet she said, "Matthew, just remember, you might be paralysed, but that doesn't change you who are deep down."

As he watched her go into another room, Matthew knew that she was correct, though he didn't yet believe it. He hadn't understood that there was a difference between knowing and believing until his injury. Yes, he knew that inside he still was himself, his mother, Sybil, and Mary had all made sure of that, yet at the same time he still was struggling to believe that and had a feeling that he would carry that struggle for the rest of his life. For know though, there was the hope of the war's end within the week and he had Doctor John Cotes visit to look forward to.

**_For those of you who are history buffs (like me :D), Lord Kitchener was a British Field Marshal and became Secretary of State for War during WWI. He appeared on multiple war posters during this time telling Britons that their country needed them. He also is known for accurately predicting that the war would last for several years, despite the original belief that the war would only last a few months._**


	8. A Second Opinion

**_A/N: I explored a little bit of what's going on in Sybil's head in this chapter. Even though I will be sticking mainly with Mary and Matthew to tell the story, I don't want to completely limit myself and going with Sybil's observations flowed perfectly with this chapter._**

**_Sorry for the wait, but finals week and the weeks leading up to it suddenly arrived. I'm done with my first year of college (or university, whatever you call it) and hopefully there will be some free time to get a few more chapters done on this story as well as some of my other ones._**

Two days later, Matthew found himself getting ready to be examined yet again, though this time by Sir John Cotes, the doctor had called up from London. He wasn't certain what to expect, but he was determined not to get his hopes up, as he didn't want to have them destroyed because he knew full well that they would be. Sybil was in the room with him as she was the one nurse he felt comfortable having in attendance. He didn't wish to have his mother in the room with him, despite her protests. He was a grown man after all, and even though his mother was a qualified nurse and one of his rocks, she could get slightly overbearing at times.

"You say you were thrown against something by a shell blast?" asked Doctor Cotes once they had been settled in a small room that had been converted into an examination room should the need arise.

"Yes," Matthew answered firmly, though with a slight trace of sadness. "A fellow soldier and a friend, William Mason, threw himself in front of me taking the brunt of the blast. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here." _And I'm thankful to be alive_, he thought. It had taken him a long time to come to that conclusion, but he knew it was the truth. Life still was hard, but he was certain that if he tried to believe he was thankful to be alive, the actual believing would happen.

"And what happened to him?" inquired the doctor.

"He died a few days after," Matthew answered with downcast eyes. "The blast somehow damaged his lungs."

The doctor nodded in response then said, "Are you ready to start the examination?"

Matthew sighed. He wasn't ready, not exactly. The only reason he was even doing this was for Robert. He already knew what the outcome was going to be. There wasn't another possibility. At last he said in a low voice, "Yes."

After Matthew had removed his shirt, which was one of the few things he could to independently, Doctor Cotes, along with Sybil, lifted him out of the wheelchair and onto his bed, where they laid him on his side. Matthew was able to help some with positioning his body, but the majority of the work still needed to be done by others. He was determined that someday he'd get from his chair into bed without being carried like a baby. Matthew didn't know when that day would come, but it needed to come fairly soon if he was to keep his sanity.

"The bruising seems to have healed substantially," said Sybil gently. "That's a sign of some healing."

"But it doesn't make a difference," Matthew muttered. "The internal healing is never going to happen." Yet again, he asked himself why he was doing this. Yes, it was something his father would have done, but Matthew knew that he'd simply hear the same verdict he had heard from Clarkson.

Ignoring Matthew's statement, Sir John began his examination. It was done in much the same style as Doctor Clarkson's had been a two months previously. As Sir John began to slowly massage down Matthew's back, he couldn't help but hope he'd feel some sort of pressure when Dr Cotes moved below his waist. "So this was how Dr Clarkson found out," Matthew thought as he felt the pressure in the upper-middle portion of his back. It was rather strange being aware of what was going on unlike the previous time when he had been barely conscious and he could barely remember it. Suddenly Matthew couldn't feel anything anymore. "Are you done?" he asked, knowing that the answer would most likely be in the negative.

"No," Doctor Cotes answered. "You can't feel this?"

Matthew shook his head. He knew that Sir John was probably massaging an area of his legs. He had known this would happen, but it still was devastating. It took all of his resolve to stay calm and not yell at the doctor. His situation wasn't the doctor's fault; it wasn't anyone's fault that he was injured. It was only that damned shell that could be blamed and where was the use in blaming an inanimate object?

When Dr Cotes was finished, Sybil gently helped Matthew into a seated position propped by pillows. Even though his back had strengthened substantially, he still often needed support to sit up.

"Well?" Matthew asked as he crossed his arms and leaned his head back, certain he was about to hear the inevitable.

"It would appear the spinal cord has been transacted, but I cannot be certain," Doctor Cotes said slowly.

Sybil looked up quickly. What was Sir John Cotes thinking? Of course, spinal injuries were complicated and often difficult to understand. But surely a broken back was as simple (in terms of symptoms) that spinal injuries could get, right?

"What?" asked Matthew in shock as he suddenly paid attention as all determinations of him not getting his hopes up suddenly left him. "But Doctor Clarkson …"

"Now, I don't want you to get your hopes up," Doctor Cotes said quickly before Matthew could get very far with his statement, "but there is a slight chance you could have a case of spinal shock, severe bruising of the spinal area that can cause temporary paralysis."

As she heard the doctor's explanation, Sybil nodded slowly. Logically, it was a possibility, after all, there hadn't been any bone protruding from Matthew's back nor scarring to show that it had happened. If there had been a break, which sadly, she was fairly certain of, it had been a clean one. However, she was willing to entertain this doctor's theory, however unlikely it might be.

"You mean this is temporary?" asked an amazed and very excited Matthew, as he tried to sit up straighter and only managed to move most of the pillows to the ground. With a slight laugh, Sybil helped him into a more upright seated position that was slightly uncomfortable, but it worked for the moment. "That I'll walk again?" Matthew continued. Immediately he regretted saying that. He already knew it wasn't possible, so why was he acting like this? He shouldn't get his hopes up when there wasn't any hope. But the doctor was making it sound like there could be.

"I said might," replied the doctor. "I cannot be certain yet. Have you felt any sensations in your lower body?"

Matthew shook his head. "No," he said sadly. "Is there any way you can be certain about my back?"

"Yes," answered the doctor. "There are these fairly new machines called X-ray machines which can be used to take pictures of bones. They have been used to determine whether or not a bone has been broken. I have one in my hospital in London."

Sybil looked up in surprise. She had heard of these machines and had even seen a few pictures of the images they took, but she had never actually seen one. They supposedly were revolutionizing the medical field as doctors were now able to see exact pictures of bones.

"C-Can you use it on … on my back?" stuttered Matthew, still in complete amazement and still wondering why he was acting like this. Well, perhaps he should follow through and simply see what could be determined, even though he knew that nothing would or could change.

"I can," Doctor Cotes replied. "It can't be for some time though as you need to get stronger before you can travel to London, but within a month, you should be able to and then I can x-ray your back. I'm certain you'll be able to come up before Christmas."

"You don't know how much this means to me," said Matthew. "I-I know you said there is only a chance, but a chance is a chance." _And it's probably a hopeless chance,_ Matthew muttered under his breath. _Why on earth am I thinking there is a possibility of getting out of this chair? There isn't any. If there was, something would have happened by now._

"Indeed it is," Doctor Cotes answered, "but I don't want you to get your hopes up too high."

"I know, I know," Matthew said quickly. "And I'll do my best to not hope too much." _I've already hoped too much. Why am I still hoping?_

"Would you like us to help you back into your wheelchair?" asked Sybil gently, not wanting to hear anymore of this conversation.

"Yes," Matthew answered, and a small part of him hoped this was the start of no longer needing help. He tried to shove that hope down, but it refused to. His feelings were extremely conflicted as his brain was telling him to give up and tell Doctor Cotes that he didn't need to travel to London as there wasn't a chance of the X-ray doing anything more than confirming what he already knew. On the other hand, his heart was telling him to go to London, even if it was simply a shred of hope that there was a chance of his recovery. Matthew didn't know which thought to follow, nor did he knew which one he wanted to follow.

A short while latter Matthew was settled in his wheelchair and Doctor Cotes had taken his leave after promising not to say anything about the possibility of spinal shock to Lord Grantham or any other members of the Crawley family. Matthew didn't want this idea of possible recovery being spread as he knew his family would latch onto the optimistic side.

"Should I tell the family?" asked Matthew of Sybil. "I don't want them to get their hopes up too much. And I don't want to get my hopes up too much either."

"If you wish to tell the family, you may," Sybil answered as she sat down on the bed next to his chair. "I'm praying that Doctor Cotes suspicions are correct and you simply have a case of spinal shock, but Matthew, you must be prepared that your injury is permanent." As she said this, she looked gently into his eyes.

"I know, Sybil," Matthew replied with a sigh as he put his head in his hands. "And I am. I had no choice but to accept this way of life for over two months and can continue to accept it if I have to. And I have a feeling that I'm going to have to unless by some miracle I recover." _Which will not occur_, he muttered under his breath.

"I have no doubt of you accepting what life throws at you." assured Sybil, "You've certainly done enough of it and I'm proud of you for being willing to do so. All you have to remember that you're still you, whether stuck in that chair or standing on your own two feet." As she said this, she reached out and gently touched Matthew's elbow.

"I'd just rather be the current me with legs," Matthew murmured. He didn't want to go back to what he was like prior to the war. Even though he had seen and lived through many horrible instances, it had changed him and he knew that in some ways, it had been for the better, at least, in the sense of priorities. Nearly dying on almost a daily basis for almost four years does that. He just wished that all this didn't have to come at the expense of his legs.

"What's happened has happened," replied Sybil. "Now, are you ready to go to dinner?"

* * *

A couple of times a week, Matthew ate dinner with the family. He didn't wish to do it every night as he was also a recuperating officer and needed to take some meals with the rest of the officers. Tonight though, was a night that he was to have dinner with the rest of the Crawley family and his mother. That night at dinner, Matthew decided that he needed to tell the family. They needed to know, even if it meant disappointing them if it turned out his back actually was broken, which he didn't know what to think about and didn't want to either. After all, whichever way this situation ended up going, he needed family support and especially if it ended the way he dreaded, but knew to be most likely.

Much to his surprise, he was not the starter of the conversation about the doctor's visit. He honestly should have expected it, but Mary was the one to ask.

"How did the visit with Doctor Cotes go today?" she asked over the soup course. It still amused Matthew how dinner was served in courses. Even with all the changes that everyone had to make, some things, oftentimes the more minor ones, simply wouldn't change. It appeared that dinner courses were one of them.

"F-Fine, thank you," a rather unprepared Matthew answered quickly, hoping that his voice wasn't displaying the nervousness he was feeling.

"What did he say?" asked Isobel, in a tone that Matthew knew all too well. It was the tone his mother used when she knew that there was something important he wasn't saying.

Matthew put down his spoon, yet again wondering whether or not he should tell everyone what the doctor had told him, even though he had already made the decision to do so. He didn't want to cause everyone false hope, but then, hope was hope, as he had put it and he knew he should tell them. He did wonder if he should give his family hope even when he was fairly certain that it was a false hope. At last he said quietly, "Doctor Cotes told me that my back may not be broken."

Everyone stared at Matthew in a combination of shock and disbelief. Even Carson, who usually was quite calm when in the dining room looked slightly surprised.

"What is it then?" Mary asked quickly as she did her best to stay her usual calm and collected self, though inside her mind was whirling around. If there was any chance of Matthew recovering, perhaps he would give her a second chance. She was all too willing to give him another chance.

"He says it could be a case of spinal shock, but he can't be certain until he has x-rayed my back," Matthew explained before everyone grew too excited. "In a month or so I should be strong enough to travel up to London where he can do that. Then we'll know the full extent of the damage."

"That … that's wonderful!" cried an elated Isobel.

"Mother, it's a possibility," Matthew said in a solemn tone, as he looked her straight in the eye. As a child, he had been the one to get overly excited about everything and his mother had to be the one to calm him down, but right now it appeared that the roles had been reversed.

"I know, son," Isobel answered, "but just the fact that there might be a chance of you getting out of that chair is wonderful."

"Did the doctor really say that, Sybil?" asked Robert, still in a state of disbelief.

"He did, Papa," Sybil answered. "And before you ask, Doctor Clarkson did a wonderful job of the examination with the equipment that he had access to. Doctor Cotes feels he could do a better examination in London with all of the newer and fancier equipment he has there."

"Clarkson is a good doctor," Robert agreed as he turned towards Matthew. "What do you think of this turn of events?"

Matthew wasn't certain what he should say. At last he said rather slowly, "I don't really know what to think. Not yet at least. For two months, I've thought I'd be stuck in this wheelchair for the rest of my life, but I just found out that there's a chance that won't happen. I'm afraid to believe it thought and am doing my best not to hope until after I see Doctor Cotes in London."

For a short time, everyone was once again silent.

"You know what outcome we're all praying for," Mary said gently as she broke the silence.

"And I hope it is that one," Matthew finished.

"It would be so wonderful if you did get out of that chair," Edith said. "It must make you feel so awkward."

Matthew started at Edith's statement and didn't know what to say. She had no idea how humiliating it was being in a wheelchair and needing help to do just about everything. Thankfully, no response from him was necessary as Cousin Cora took care of her daughter's curt statement.

"Edith!" cried a shocked Cora.

Matthew could sense an argument brewing and one thing he had learned in his time at Downton was to always avoid a Crawley women argument. "Cora, it's all right," he said quietly. "And Edith, yes, my current situation is awkward. But I kindly ask you _not_ to bring it up."

There was another round of silence. Though this time, there was the clinking of the dishes to keep it from being empty. Soon, the soup course had been cleared and the salad course began. There would only be two more, the meat and dessert, afterwards and Matthew was already eager to get out.

Even after the maids finished their jobs, no one spoke. At last Matthew said, "Silence isn't going to do anything."

"But silence is golden," quipped Mary.

"Unless of course, it is silver," Matthew retorted.

Mary half-heartedly glared at Matthew, but she smiled as she did so. "Oh, Matthew," she sighed. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually have missed our banters."

As Matthew looked across the table at his cousin, he could tell that her statement had been genuine. "I've missed them as well," he replied with a soft smile.

"Is this appropriate for the dinner table?" asked Violet, suddenly speaking up.

"Probably not," Mary answered with a grin, "but then, since when have my dinner conversations with Matthew been appropriate." She turned towards Matthew and mouthed the words, "Sea monster."

That did it. For the first time in who knew how long, Matthew actually laughed. And it wasn't a forced laugh, but a true one. That first dinner with the Crawley family had been a true disaster. But now it was something that could be laughed at and goodness knows, he needed something that caused laughter.

"Matthew! Is everything all right?" asked a slightly concerned Isobel.

"Everything is just fine, Mother," Matthew replied as soon as he got his breath under control. "Everything's fine," he repeated to himself. He had family that genuinely cared about him; a family that would always be there for him no matter the outcome. In many ways, Matthew knew that it was the simple fact of having a loving family that kept him going. So many men didn't have families to turn to, or in some cases, they were abandoned by their families. If he didn't have his mother, if he didn't have the Crawleys, Matthew knew that he wouldn't have made anywhere near the amount of recovery that he had.

"Whatever Mary did must have worked," Sybil added with a laugh, though she did have a slight idea of what the secret conversation may have been about. Even though it had only been for a moment, she loved the light she had seen in Matthew's eyes. So rarely did she ever see light in anyone's eyes these days, but especially in soldiers. It was good to see it again, even if it was only for the briefest of moments.

After this, the mood in the dining room became somewhat light-hearted. It was impossible for it to be completely normal, the presence of maids and the wheelchair made certain of that, but the conversation was no where near as dismal as it could be.

Mary smiled softly to herself as she ate. The war would soon be over and Matthew might recover. The world would never again be the way she had grown up and Mary wasn't certain if she liked that. She knew there was a time for change and that time had come. The world had changed and she and her family had to move with it. As she looked around the room, she saw her parents talking quietly with each other, Sybil and Granny having some kind of debate, Matthew and Isobel sharing a quiet laugh, and Edith simply eating her dinner without a word. This was her family: the family that she loved and cared about. Her eyes slowly turned towards Matthew. Even after all these years, those two long years in which they hadn't so much as exchanged a letter, let alone spoke with each other, she still loved him. Mary wondered yet again if he still loved her. If he were sitting in the straight-backed dining chair rather than that wheelchair, would he admit that he still loved her? She quickly brushed the thought from her mind. The two of them would never get together. Her actions all those years ago, her refusal to tell him, and his injury and pride, would forever keep them apart, no matter what feelings the two of them had for the other.

A short while later, dinner was over and the ladies retired to the one sitting room which had been kept for family use, while Robert and Matthew stayed in the dining room.

For a time, neither of them said anything. At last, Robert inhaled deeply and puffed on his cigar, causing Matthew to look up. He hadn't accepted either the drink or the smoke, but had stayed simply to play the role expected of him. "Are you going to go to London?" Robert asked at last.

"I think I will," Matthew replied, "but like I told you last week, I highly doubt that this visit will change anything. If there was some hope of even slight recovery, I'm certain I would have noticed something by now." His was still thinking about his reaction earlier that day. He had sounded so cheerful, so hopeful, and yet he didn't feel a bit of that now. Perhaps it had to do with giving him some time to think about Sir John's possible diagnoses. It had been well over two months since his injury and since then, he hadn't felt or moved a muscle in his legs.

"Don't give up all hope, at least not yet," responded Robert calmly.

"I don't plan to," Matthew said with calm resolve, "and I know that even if I don't stand on my two feet again in this world, it will happen again one day." In many ways, the fact that one day he'd be completely healed was only that fact that kept him going each day and from sinking back into the deep depression he had been in soon after his injury. That depression still returned on an almost daily basis, but it was beginning to be less frequent. Matthew knew that it had to do with his acceptance of his physical state and his determination to still get something from life. There still were things that sent him spiralling down into depression though: the humiliation of needing so much help, especially for private things, the fact that he would never be able to properly love someone, that he was an unfit heir to Cousin Robert. He needed to learn to accept life as it now was, and that was happening, though with a great struggle. There was so much that he would and could never be; there had been so much in life he had wanted, but never was to have.

**_A/N If another doctor had looked at Matthew, would he have told Matthew something? It never made sense to me that he would only have spoken to Doctor Clarkson. Anyway, this is where the AU will start. I hope you will enjoy this journey with me as I'm not entirely certain what this story will consist of. I have my basic outline, but there is all the filling in to do and I know that some things will probably surprise me as I write this._**


	9. A Wonderful Surprise

**_A/N Well, _****_This chapter ended up going in a completely different direction than I had originally planned, but I must say I had a lot of fun with this chapter.  
_**

**_There is some dialogue taken straight from the show in this chapter._**

Once again, the family was in the sitting room as Lord Grantham had just gotten some information on whoever this Patrick Gordon might be. The accounts in regard to someone being pulled out of the water differed from the man dying at sea to making it to New York. Naturally, Edith believed the latter account. Mary still was firm in her belief that Patrick was long gone and Matthew simply didn't know what to think. Before any discussion could be started, Robert continued by saying that here was a Peter Gordon who had worked with Patrick at some point, and Peter and immigrated to Montreal.

Granny was certain that when this Gordon fellow had had his face half destroyed, he figured that he could wheedle his way into an inheritance. To Mary, that idea made perfect sense, but Edith was still convinced that Patrick Gordon was their cousin. Mary had no clue how she could be able to convince her sister otherwise. If Patrick had lived, and even if he had lost his memory, surely they would have been notified somehow. Mary wondered if part of her determination for Major Gordon to not be Patrick stemmed from her annoyance of being betrothed to him for nearly her entire life.

"What do you think?" Cora asked her husband.

Robert sighed and simply said, "I don't know. Murray will continue to investigate and with the end of the war, it should be easier to find evidence."

Once everyone had left the room, Robert turned towards Matthew and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I don't know more."

"Don't be," Matthew stated, looking down at his lap. "I meant what I said the other day. It'll take a man who is more than I am now to take after you. So don't think about me." At times, Matthew felt that he was a burden on the family. Right now it probably wasn't overly obvious, after all, there were numerous other wounded officers at Downton, but once they all left, the family would soon realise the role his injury would play in their lives. All he could hope for at the moment was a positive outcome in London when he went in a few weeks. But, Matthew wasn't expecting that outcome, not completely at any rate.

"How can you say that?" asked an aghast Robert. "I never think about anything else." With that, Robert left, leaving Matthew alone with his thoughts. He knew that if Mary or his mother ever heard what he had just said, he would get the talking to of his life. He briefly wondered what she would say, but he knew that it probably wouldn't be anything different than what she and his mother had already told him. He knew he still had his mind, and for that he was grateful. After all, he was determined to someday go back to work. But to him, a man was almost nothing if he wasn't strong of both mind and body. He was only strong of mind and would never be strong of body. He buried his head in his hands and began to weep. He wept for all of those who had lost their lives, for the families ripped apart, for the places destroyed, but most of all he wept for himself, for the man he used to be, but was no longer.

* * *

Later that evening at dinner, Sir Richard arrived and that was to be expected. What Matthew did not expect was when Cora asked, "Where's Lavinia?"

"She didn't come," Richard answered. "She said something about Matthew not wanting her around." He glared at Matthew and Matthew could feel the cold, calculating look of one of the few men he actually despised.

Matthew turned and stared at Cora. "And when did you ask Lavinia to come back here?" he asked accusingly.

Cora looked somewhat flabbergasted, but managed to calm down enough to speak steadily. She replied, "A few days ago. I thought that since you're improving, you'd like her company again. And with the chance that this might not be permanent…"

Matthew groaned as he gripped the sides of his chair. "I sent her away for a good reason," he protested as he interrupted Cora, "and I'm thankful to see she listened."

Mary's eyes were quickly darting between her mama, Matthew, and Sir Richard. Her mama looked disappointed, Matthew annoyed and slightly angry, and Sir Richard furious. She sighed and ever so slightly, shook her head. She had no idea why Richard would look so angry unless it was he who came up with this ploy to try and get Lavinia back into Matthew's life. If such a ploy were to be successful, Lavinia would take over Matthew's care, thus keeping her interaction with Matthew at a minimum. If that were to be the case, Mary was exceedingly grateful that it hadn't worked out, at least not yet. As much as she enjoyed Lavinia's company, the girl had also been her rival. Of course, it was now far too late for her and Matthew. Mary wouldn't go so far as to say she was happy that no one else could be with Matthew, but in a strange way she was relieved that Lavinia would not be the Countess of Grantham. However sweet the girl was, she didn't have the right personality to be a countess.

"Mary, is something wrong?" Robert asked his daughter.

"I was simply wondering why Mama would request Lavinia's presence when Matthew had been explicit about not wanting her around," Mary stated.

"I just want to do what's best," Cora sighed.

"What's best for me or for you?" retorted Matthew. Even though it generally wasn't regarded as proper for a gentleman to leave the table before the ladies, he rolled his chair back away from the table and exited the dining room, muttering under his breath as he went.

Mary made a move to follow him, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. "Don't you have a greeting for me?" Sir Richard inquired. Mary sighed inaudibly, but gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I must go and make certain Matthew is settled," she said quietly. "The conversation of this evening has quite upset him."

"You know I don't' like you spending all this time with him," Sir Richard said sternly. "That's the main reason Lavinia was supposed to come: to relieve you of your duties."

Mary didn't dignify Richard's statement with a response, but merely nodded in understanding. She then turned and quickly followed Matthew out of the room, hoping that Richard wouldn't follow. Thankfully he didn't.

"That imbecile," she muttered once she knew Sir Richard was out of ear-shot. However, Matthew heard her insult and smiled ever so slightly, grateful that she couldn't see his face. He did wonder why Mary was engaged to a person that she called such words, but he didn't have time to contemplate this. A moment later, she caught up to him and said gently, "I'm sorry for the display at dinner."

"Don't be," Matthew sighed. "I just wish I knew why your mother wished Lavinia to come back."

Mary gritted her teeth. Richard had practically told her the reasons why and they certainly weren't pleasant ones. "I think I might know," she said slowly, "but I know you won't like it."

By this point, they were in the small library. Matthew stopped his chair and slowly turned around so as to face Mary. She sat down in a chair quite close to his and said, "Sir Richard told me that Lavinia was supposed to relieve me of my duties towards you."

"What?" cried Matthew.

"But I'm certain there's more to that," Mary continued. "You see, I think Richard thinks you're still in love with me and he doesn't want anyone to snatch me away from him." _Not to mention he probably realizes that I still love Matthew_, she thought. _I know Matthew doesn't love me in the way he did._

Matthew stared at his cousin in shock. "Is that all?" he asked.

Mary nodded. That was all, or at least, all she could tell him. She couldn't tell him the true reasons for why Richard was so determined to keep her and Matthew apart. She herself didn't even know what they would technically be, but she knew that they had to do with her scandal.

"Mary," Matthew said firmly. "I know there is something you're not telling me. Why on earth are you engaged to Sir Richard?"

"We're a good match," Mary said rather distantly.

"Mary," Matthew repeated. "Please, tell me. I know you don't love him. You're choice of words a few minutes ago confirmed that."

Mary let out a long sigh. She simply couldn't tell him. If Matthew were to find out … She knew her chances of being married to him were long gone, but she couldn't stand to loose his friendship and respect and she knew she'd lose both of them the moment he knew about Pamuk. "I can't tell you," she said at last. "You'd hate me for it."

Matthew too let out a sigh. There wasn't a thing that Mary could have done that would make him hate her. "I promise, I won't hate you," he replied. "That's an impossible task."

"Matthew…" she began, but Matthew cut her off.

"I won't say I like Sir Richard," he began. "In fact, I'd go so far as to say, I despise the man. However, if you feel he's the right one for you, I won't stop you. I simply want to know the reason why. I know now, or at least I hope, that you're not so shallow as to marry for money."

"No, it's not the money," Mary said quickly.

"Then what?" asked Matthew rather sharply, though extremely relieved. "Is he forcing you?" Mary stiffened ever so slightly, but Matthew noticed. "Good God! What is it?" he cried, then continued through gritted teeth, "If he's blackmailing you…"

That did it. Mary knew that she had to tell Matthew. She had to tell someone and Matthew did care about her. Most certainly not in the way he used to, but as family. "Promise not to say anything until I'm through," she said firmly. Matthew promised, and so she began. "Do you remember the hunt back in 1913 when Evelyn brought the Turkish ambassador with him?" she inquired. Matthew nodded, wondering why this story began so long ago. "Well, I know I flirted quite dangerously with him that afternoon and evening. Somehow, he … he found his way to my bedroom that night. I have no clue how as I certainly never said a word about it. He … he came to the door and … and came in."

As Mary paused for breath, Matthew bit his lip to keep from saying something. He had a feeling he knew where this story was going to go, but he didn't say a word.

Soon Mary continued. "He told me I was already ruined, so it didn't matter if I screamed." There was another short pause before Mary quickly finished. "I took a lover and he died in my bed."

For a few short seconds, Matthew stared at Mary. "Did you let him?" he asked in a soft, firm tone that didn't match in the least to what he was feeling like inside.

"I told him to leave, but he wouldn't," Mary replied barely above a whisper. "I'm soiled goods, Matthew. That's why I couldn't accept your proposal. I couldn't marry you without telling you, but I couldn't imagine telling you either."

"Oh, Mary," Matthew said gently as he slowly wheeled forward and took her hand in his. "You're not soiled goods. A man forced himself on you, against your wishes." He paused for a moment and added, "If he wasn't already dead, I'd kill him." There was no way he could put to words what he was feeling. He was so relieved that Mary's refusal to his proposal back in 1914 didn't have a thing to do with what could have been changed prospects. Rather, it seemed that it had been more of a matter of conscience.

"C-Can you forgive me?" Mary stuttered. If Matthew decided to turn her back on her now, it was completely her fault and it would be fully deserved.

"There's nothing to forgive," said Matthew firmly. "That incident wasn't your fault and I'm grieved that you've had to bear this burden for so long. Now, why is this story the cause of your having to marry Sir Richard?"

"He bought the story off of Mrs Bates," Mary said quietly. "I don't know how she found out, but Sir Richard called and told me he knew the story. I quickly went up to London. To summarize, he promised that if I married him, he wouldn't print the story."

Finally, understanding dawned on Matthew. Everything, all her hesitations towards him, the need to marry Carlisle: they all had to do with a certain incident now five years in the past.

"I don't care about the story getting printed," Mary continued, "not for myself. But, it will ruin Edith and Sybil's prospects and kill Papa. Granny already knows as she heard about it from Aunt Rosamund." She pulled her hand our of Matthew's and hid her face.

"And your mother?" asked Matthew as he gently pulled her hands back down.

"She knows," Mary said quickly. "She and Anna helped me carry the body down to the bachelor's corridor."

Matthew stared wide-eyed at Mary. His darling Mary had carried a dead body down several hallways. No one should ever have to do that. He gave an involuntary shudder as he remembered all of the dead and dying men he'd carried over the past four years.

"Matthew," Mary said softly, then a bit louder, "Matthew." Once she knew she had gotten his attention. "So, I have no choice. To protect my family, I have to marry him."

"No you don't," Matthew said firmly, not really knowing what he was going to say next.

"What?" Mary asked in surprise.

"You don't have to marry that man," Matthew stated again, this time with more confidence. "Not if you don't want to."

"But, Papa …," began Mary.

"Mary, do you still love me?" Mathew asked suddenly, surprising himself with his question. _Where was he planning on going with this?_ He knew he still loved Mary, but he couldn't possibly tie her down to himself. It wouldn't be fair to her. Well, if it was to save her from a loveless marriage that she was forced into.

"Of-of course I do!" stuttered Mary, very surprised at the turn of events and curious as to where they were going. "I've never stopped loving you. I think I fell in love with you, though I didn't know at the time when you …" But she suddenly stopped, not daring to lest it bring up sad memories for Matthew.

"When?" Matthew asked slowly.

"When I first saw you on that bicycle of yours," Mary finished with a smile. "You always had that thing with you."

Matthew nodded slowly as he remembered that lovely old bicycle, but the smile quickly left his face as he knew he'd most likely never mount one again.

"I'm sorry if that brought up unpleasant memories," Mary quickly added.

"No, no, it's fine," Matthew assured. "Mary, you don't know how much relief it brings to me to know that you love me. I love you too, so … I wish I could do this properly, (_Damn this wheelchair_, he thought) but, will you marry me?"


	10. A Lifesaving Plan

**_A/N And here's the next installment. I hope you all enjoy it. The next chapter is mostly written, so I'm hoping that it can be out in about a week. No promises though as I'm currently enrolled in a summer class as well as reading ahead for the honour's programme at my college._  
**

_"No, no, it's fine," Matthew assured. "Mary, you don't know how much relief it brings to me to know that you love me. I love you too, so … I wish I could do this properly, (__Damn this wheelchair__, he thought) but, will you marry me?"_

* * *

"What?" asked a completely and utterly shocked Mary. She was staring at Matthew in complete surprise, trying to figure out if she had heard him correctly. She desperately hoped that it was true, but it also was something she had not expected to hear from him again.

"Will you marry me?" Matthew repeated, this time a bit more firmly, though he too was slightly surprised at what he was saying. "I'd get down on one knee and do the whole thing properly if I could."

"I don't care that this isn't a proper proposal," Mary said elatedly. "And yes, yes I will marry you!" She leapt up and sat down in Matthew's lap to hug him as best she could. Matthew tenderly returned the hug, but he couldn't help wishing he could feel her presence on his lap. Suddenly Mary leaned back and terror entered her eyes. "What's Sir Richard going to say?" she asked seriously. Even though Matthew now knew her secret, Sir Richard still wielded a terrible power with it.

"We'll deal with him later," gently murmured Matthew as he pulled her back into the hug. "Whatever you do, don't tell him what's just happened." He knew that if Sir Richard found out that Mary had just jilted him, whatever followed would not be pretty.

"But I'll have to," replied Mary in a small voice into his shoulder. She knew that she couldn't be engaged to two men at once, even though she loved one and despised the other.

"Let's just wait. We can get a small wedding organized and done in the local church one day when Sir Richard is up in London. Then we'll go off somewhere rather secluded and telephone him about what we did. After that, life will go on one way or another," Matthew replied, hardly believing that he could come up with such a scheme. As a boy, he hadn't been very good at coming up with sly schemes, but then, his father had been an expert at seeing through them even when his mother could not.

"Oh, Matthew," cried a terribly relieved Mary as she hugged him all the tighter. She then, sat back up and stood up. "I should go back to the dining room. Everyone will wonder where we've gone."

"There's no need of that, my dear," Violet said as she suddenly entered the room. She looked over at the two and a twinkle entered her eye. "Have I interrupted something important?"

Matthew glanced over at Mary and his look asked, "Should we tell her?" Mary smiled and nodded as she sat down in the chair she had been occupying earlier. As the women had now left the room, the men could be entering quite soon and it wouldn't do to be caught by Richard in Matthew's arms. He would know what had happened immediately.

"Cousin Violet, or should I say, Granny," began Matthew somewhat uncertainly, "Mary and I are engaged."

To say that Violet Crawley was surprised would be an understatement, though it was something she'd never admit. "When did this happen?" she asked once she finally get her breath back.

"Just now," Mary answered as she stroked Matthew's hand which was resting on his knee.

"Well, my dear, I must say that this is quite the pleasant surprise. Oh, we must get started with the preparations."

"That's just the thing, Granny," Mary began rather hesitatingly as she wasn't certain whether she should tell her grandmother the entirety of the reasoning behind the rather sudden engagement. "Matthew and I, well, we've wasted so much time that we don't want to wait much longer."

"And that's the only reason?" inquired Violet with one eyebrow raised.

"Granny!" cried a horrified Mary and even Matthew looked slightly uncomfortable. He never, even if he could walk and have kids, would lie in bed with a girl until the wedding night. Surely Violet knew that. Once glance in his cousin's face told him that she did indeed know that as a certain twinkle was in her eye. "It's nothing of the sort," Mary finished, slightly amused and annoyed with her grandmother.

"Good," stated Violet. "I had never given up hope that you two would eventually find your way to each other. Now, why the rush?"

"It mainly has to do with Sir Richard," Mary began slowly. She had no clue how to tell the story and she didn't want to tell it again. _At least Granny already knows about Pamuk_, she thought. _I can't bear having to tell Papa and Sybil, but I'm going to have to.  
_

"What my fiancée means is that Sir Richard intends to print her scandal if she refuses to marry him," stated Matthew. "But there won't be much of a blow if she is respectfully married before the story is printed." He inwardly grinned at the fact that he had just said the word 'fiancée in regards to Mary. That was something that he had been waiting years to say.

"So, you mean to get married and tell him afterwards?" questioned Violet, who looked to be both sceptical and supportive.

"That, or the morning off," finished Matthew. "After the papers have gone out he'll have to wait until it's time for the evening edition to print it. If he prints the story, it won't be about an unmarried woman."

"I do love a good scheme," agreed Violet, her face almost breaking into a wide smile. "And here comes your mother and sisters, Mary. Are you going to tell them?"

"Yes," Mary agreed, "but Sir Richard mustn't hear about it."

"Hear about what?" inquired Sybil as she entered the room. She had just gotten off of her nurse's shift, which explained her absence at dinner. Sybil turned towards Matthew and asked, "Is everything all right? I know you left dinner in a hurry."

"I'm fine," Matthew assured his cousin and for the first time, he was fairly certain his answer was genuine. Sybil nodded in understanding and sat down on the sofa next to Violet.

"What's so important that Sir Richard can't hear?" Edith asked as she and Cora entered a few moments behind Sybil.

"Matthew just proposed to me again," said Mary, "and I accepted."

"Why, Mary, that is wonderful!" cried an elated Sybil as she ran over and gave her sister a hug. She quickly turned and did the same to Matthew. He was starting to get used to the slightly awkward positioning it involved for a hug. It certainly had been easier when Mary had sat on his lap, but that wasn't very appropriate for the rest of the family.

"That's wonderful darling," Cora said gently. "Have you told him?" she asked gesturing her head slightly in Matthew's direction.

"Yes, Mama," Mary replied quietly. "I've told Matthew about that night and also why I was being forced into marrying Sir Richard."

"And I've told her it isn't her fault," Mathew added. "By the time Richard gets wind of this, we'll be married and off somewhere."

"When do you plan to marry?" Cora inquired.

Mary turned and looked at Matthew, who gave a shrug. He hadn't thought of a specific date. Granted, he hadn't even thought of proposing until the words were halfway out of his mouth. Now that he thought about it, he was certain that his earlier words about marrying quickly were true. Not to mention, it sounded like Mary wished to wed at the first possible opportunity. The sooner, the better in his mind.

"Fairly soon," Mary said at last. "What with everything including Sir Richard. The sooner Matthew and I wed, the sooner I can be free of Richard."

"I am so thankful that you do not have to marry that man," Cora sighed in relief, "and I know your father will agree with me." She turned towards Matthew and added, "You don't know what you've done with saving Mary like this."

"I actually think I might," Matthew said. "Even if Sir Richard decides to print this story, it won't be overly powerful as the scandal happened so many years ago and she will be married before the story is printed. Of course, there still will be those who will change their opinions, but anyone who is a true friend to your family and your daughter will choose to see her as she is now, rather than what she once did."

"What are you talking about, Mama?" inquired Sybil. Whatever this event was, it certainly had involved her oldest sister and must have been quite something for it to be the reasoning behind Mary's engagement to Carlisle.

"I will tell you, but later," promised Mary. She was dreading the necessity of now telling her father, sister, and future mother-in-law, but it was essential that they know before the wedding and before Sir Richard printed the story, which he was bound to do.

At just that moment, Robert and Sir Richard entered the room. The atmosphere in the room grew rather cold and formal very quickly. _That scumbag_, thought Matthew angrily. He was altogether relieved that he wouldn't have to put up with that man as a relative, but the sooner he no longer associated with the family, the better. He wished that Mary and he could get married the next day, but that was an impossibility, even in the changing world.

"Mary, my darling," Sir Richard said as he walked towards her.

Mary slowly got up and with a discreet glance in Matthew's direction that clearly told him that what was to follow was play-acting, turned towards Sir Richard. "Hello, Richard," she replied sweetly. "How was your cigar and brandy with Papa?"

"As well as could be expected," Sir Richard replied rather curtly. "It looks like your conversation with your cousin went well."

"It did," said Mary, still in her sugary-sweet tone. "Thank you for inquiring." _Ugh_, how she hated this facade she had to keep up. Hopefully it wouldn't be necessary for very long because she knew that sooner or later, more likely sooner, Sir Richard would see through the plan and ruin it.

Matthew was having trouble keeping a smirk off of his face. Mary certainly was excellent at pretending when she wished too. Now, all that had to be done was to keep up this act for the next few weeks and then it would be over. Ideally, he would love it if he could get Mary out of Carlisle's clutches and be married to her by Christmas. He was fairly certain that it could get pulled off. Naturally, it wouldn't' be anywhere near as grand of a wedding as she deserved, but he had a feeling that that didn't matter to Mary, not anymore at least. When it came to figuring out how fast a wedding could be planned, he had thought that Violet and Cora would both be against it, but instead, both of them seemed to be supporters, even though it meant that Mary didn't get the grand wedding she deserved.

* * *

Thankfully, Sir Richard had business that took him back to London the next day, but not after he cornered Mary. "You stay away from your cousin, hear?" he said, his face extremely close to hers. "Lavinia is going to be coming at some point soon to take care of him and your duty towards him will be done."

Mary couldn't help but retort, "Suppose he doesn't want her back. She's probably thought of that considering how he sent her away."

"He needs someone to look after him," repeated Sir Richard. "And you'll be too busy with our new life."

That was the last straw for Mary. Even though she had cared for Richard to a slight degree it no longer mattered to her and her cousin (now fiancé's) happiness was all that was extremely important to her. She knew that he didn't want Lavinia in his life anymore, at least not in a romantic sense. Perhaps someday they could all be friends. "I know you're used to having your own way," she stated. "But-"

Before she could continue, Sir Richard interrupted her in a very low, stern voice. "I'll say something now that I hope I'll never have to say again. If you think you can jilt me or in some way set me aside, I tell you now, you have given me the power to destroy you. And don't think I won't use it. I _will_ tell Matthew Crawley and what will he think of you then? I want to be a good husband and for you to be happy, but don't ever cross me. Do you understand?"

Mary nodded in understanding, but she knew that nothing he said meant anything to her anymore. No matter what happened, she'd be happily married to the one man she always had wanted to marry. And Richard's threat of telling Matthew didn't hold anything. He already knew the story and had still given his proposal. For a brief time she had wondered if Matthew's main reason for proposing was to save her from Richard's clutches, but she also knew that there was love involved and that was a great comfort. It was even greater than the knowledge that she wouldn't be stuck with Sir Richard for the rest of her life. (_How did he manage to get a knighthood_? she briefly wondered.) Even though she knew Richard still had a certain degree of power over her due to the story, she had Matthew, Granny, and her Mama on her side. Of course, she didn't know what Edith's stand was and she still needed to tell Sybil, her father, and Isobel before the story was printed. _Perhaps Matthew and I should travel to America for a few months after the wedding_, she thought, knowing that in many ways, it would be easier to be in a different country when the news was printed. At the moment though, future planning beyond the wedding didn't matter, but her thoughts were interrupted by Richard's reply and thankfully he hadn't noticed her brief moment of distance.

"Good," Sir Richard replied and he gave her a kiss. "Now, I'll see you in about two weeks time. I'll be kept busy in London with the Armistice tomorrow and then there will be various other things I need to get finalized before our marriage this summer."

"You better not miss your train then," Mary said. Sir Richard gave her yet another kiss and got on the train.

"Stay away from your cousin," he repeated. "You don't have to do everything for him anymore and soon you won't have to do anything."

"Very well, Richard," Mary said in a defeated tone, though it was entirely faked.

Thankfully, neither of them had the chance to say anything more because at that moment, the train whistle blew and the train slowly began to chug away. Mary kept up the pretence of waving until she saw Richard leave the window, then she quickly dropped her hand and hurried away from the station. Hopefully, she was rid of that man for the most part. It wasn't for good as she knew he'd be furious when she married Matthew and would most likely do something drastic. At the moment though, all she could really think of was wedding plans. Yes, it wouldn't be her dream wedding in terms of decorations, but it was her dream wedding in the ways that mattered. She was going to marry the one person she had ever truly loved and that was enough for her.

The Armistice was the next day and weddings took more than a few days to prepare, but she hoped that she and Matthew could tie the knot before Sir Richard returned in two weeks.

* * *

_**Stephanie: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you're enjoying the AU so far and there is going to be a lot more of it.**_

_**Guest(s): Thanks for your reviews. To whoever liked Matthew finding out about Carlisle while still in the wheelchair, I'm glad you enjoyed it. It was actually quite interesting to write as well. Also, to the other guest reviewer, I have a feeling Carlisle will taken care of rather quickly, though I'm not quite certain how yet.**_


	11. A Wars' End

**_A/N I had to make a few edits to earlier chapters because I got Matthew's age wrong. For some reason I thought he was born in 1890, not 1885. It doesn't change any of the plot, I'm just try to be a perfectionist when it comes to canonicity. Sorry if that caused any confusion with alerts._**

**_My chapters seem to have a habit of growing much larger than I had originally planned, so here's an extra long chapter for you all._**

Later that evening, Matthew and Isobel were in the small library waiting for the rest of the family to join them before going in to dinner. Matthew was nervously drumming his fingers on the side of his wheelchair. He knew he needed to tell his mother what had occurred the previous evening, but didn't want to until Mary was present. He also didn't know if he should tell his mother about Pamuk without Mary's consent.

"Matthew, is there something wrong?" asked Isobel rather concernedly.

"No, nothing's wrong," Matthew answered quickly. "I don't things, going as they are, could be much better." Indeed, he was certain they could not. Despite his current state of physical health, and even though he had struggled greatly with emotional health over the last several years, the past twenty-four hours had been among the best of his life. He and Mary, the girl that he had loved for years, were about to be wed. He hadn't ever told her, but he was certain he had fallen in love with her that first day when she walked into the sitting room at Crawley House. Naturally, he had said the most idiotic statement possible right before she entered but that hadn't stopped him from loving her.

Isobel looked curiously at her son, but didn't say anything. At that moment, Mary entered the room. "The rest of the family will be down shortly," she said. She walked swiftly over to where Matthew was seated and quietly asked in his ear, "Have you told her yet."

Matthew shook his head. "I wanted to wait until you were here," he replied, equally quietly. "I didn't want to say anything that you didn't want mother to know."

"Thank you for that," Mary replied.

"Matthew, are you certain you don't have something to say?" Isobel asked again, this time with a hint of amusement instead of worry in her voice.

"Well, Mother, now that you mention it, Mary and I do have something to share with you," Matthew began teasingly. He slowly wheeled himself over and stopped in front of the sofa his mother was sitting on. "Mother, Mary and I are engaged."

Isobel stared at her son in shock. "When? How?" she finally asked at last.

"Yesterday," Matthew answered. "And it was a fairly normal way." It hadn't been completely normal for several reasons, but was there even such a thing as a normal proposal?

"Mary, did you break up with Sir Richard?" Isobel asked as she was trying to process the new information her son had given her.

"Not technically," Mary answered. "I'm going to break up with him, after Matthew and I wed." Isobel made a move as if to interrupt but Mary quickly continued as she knew the situation sounded very strange, "It's a really long, complicated story that I'd rather not explain multiple times. Basically, I was engaged to Richard in order for him to keep his mouth shut about a scandalous incident I was involved in nearly six years ago. If I leave him, he will break his promise and print it. But, if I'm married, the story will have less power, or so Matthew has said."

Isobel nodded slowly as she allowed Matthew's statement and Mary's explanation to sink into her head. "So, to keep Sir Richard's blackmail as much at bay as possible, you two are getting married?" she asked in clarification.

"That's correct," Matthew answered, but that was only the technical side of things. There was a whole other emotional side as well. "But there is a lot more to it. Mary and I, well, we've been in love with each other for about five or six years, but both of us were too stubborn to admit it. And yes, the incident is the reason she didn't accept my proposal in 1914."

"I've told Matthew now," Mary said quietly. "And I will tell you the details later, but when Papa and Sybil can be here as well as neither of them know it. I couldn't marry Matthew without telling him and I couldn't all those years ago for fear of loosing his respect."

Isobel nodded in understanding. It was just like her son to do anything in his power to help people. He had always been like that, even as a little boy and it was one of the many traits he had inherited from his father. Isobel wished that her husband was here to see Matthew as their son eagerly awaited his wedding. Despite knowing that this action was in Matthew's personality, in many ways, the current state of affairs surprised her as Matthew had seemed so determined to not marry, especially considering all the confusion in regards to Major Gordon. But at the same time, she knew he had still been in love with Mary even during his engagement to Lavinia. "I take it everything is settled though?" Isobel inquired at last.

"It is," assured Matthew. "But …" It was one thing to tell your mother you were engaged, but quite another to announce how soon the wedding would take place.

"But what?"

"Well, Richard will be back in two weeks …" began Mary as her voice trailed off. _How did someone announce they were engaged and about to get married?_

"And we would like to have the knot tied by then," finished Matthew, figuring that being straightforward in this kind of situation was the best.

"You mean to tell me that in less than two weeks you two hope to be married?" asked Isobel. "Mary, does your mother know about this?"

"She knows about the engagement," Mary stated. "I haven't yet told her about the timing. Both Mama and Granny will have hysterics with the short amount of time they'll have to plan. Knowing Granny, she would generally take at least two weeks, if not a month, simply to decide on table arrangements and flowers. Of course, both of them know that we want to the wedding to happen as quickly as possible, so I know they'll be supportive."

"I know it's going to be a quickly prepared wedding," Matthew said. "I know neither of us wish to have a courthouse wedding, but whatever it is, it will have to be extremely small."

"I don't care about the size," said Mary firmly. "Nor do I care where it takes place, though the village church would be nice. I just want to get away from Richard once and for all and to be with you."

"And that will happen," assured Matthew, though his mind was reeling with everything that needed to get done. "Now, I think the first thing that needs to happen is to get you an engagement ring." He had no clue how to go about getting one though. The nearest jewellery shop was in Ripon and there was no way he was getting to Ripon very easily in his current state.

"There's the collection of heirloom wedding rings," Mary said softly. "I know Papa would be pleased to see one of them used."

"Do you want to use a ring from the collection?" Matthew asked. He had always wanted to buy a ring for his fiancée and even though he knew the one he had given Lavinia was probably somewhere in Crawley house, it was completely tactless to give that ring to Mary.

"Only if you wish to," Mary answered.

Matthew sighed. "It's always been my wish to purchase a brand new ring for my bride, but, with the way things currently are, there is no way I can get to a jewellery shop."

"Why don't we use one of the heirloom engagement rings, but purchase the wedding bands when we're in London?" suggested Mary. "I'm certain you'll have your appointment with Doctor Cotes before the wedding."

"That, my dear, is an excellent compromise," Matthew said as he leaned in for a kiss.

They were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat. Matthew and Mary looked up slowly to see Robert looking into the library. "Mary, Matthew, Isobel, what is going on?"

The two youngest people in the library exchanged quick and slightly embarrassed glances. This wasn't the way they had planned on telling the Earl. "Hello, Papa," Mary said shyly. "Um, Matthew and I …"

"We're engaged," Matthew stated.

Robert stared at his eldest daughter and his heir in surprise. "Pardon me?" he asked.

"We're engaged," Matthew repeated. Robert acted as if he was about to say something, but Matthew held up his hand. "Go call Sybil and we'll explain everything."

Robert nodded a bit uncertainly, but did as he had been bid. A few minutes later Sybil entered. Once everyone was seated, Robert asked, "Now, do you two care to explain yourselves? And Mary, why are your mother, grandmother, and Edith not here?"

"They already know the details of what I'm about to tell you all," Mary said. Yes, they all knew, but it was entirely Edith's fault that everyone knew. How her sister had found out was beyond her, but at the moment, it didn't matter. She paused as she gathered her thoughts. This time wasn't going to be as difficult, she was certain of it. Matthew was the one she had dreaded telling the most, and he had accepted her. She also knew that Isobel and Sybil would still be accepting of her, if they were who she thought they were. However, her father and Edith were a different matter. She could only hope that saw her as who she currently was, not for a past mistake.

"Do you remember the Turkish gentleman who was here with Mr Napier back in 1913?" she inquired.

"How could I forget," muttered Robert. "The man died in our house."

"That's just the thing, Papa," Mary said slowly. "He didn't die in his bed. He died in mine."

"WHAT?" shouted Robert.

"Please, Papa, let me finish," Mary begged. "He …he came to my room uninvited. I don't know how he found it. But, he came in and … and forced himself on me."

"But how did he get back to his room?" asked Sybil.

"Mama, Anna, and I carried him," Mary said in a barely audible tone as Matthew gently squeezed her hand.

Robert glared sharply at his daughter. "I'm surprised about you, Mary," he said sternly. "I thought we had raised you better."

"I… I tried to send him away," stuttered Mary. "I didn't want it, Papa."

Isobel looked gently at her soon to be daughter-in-law and said, "Robert, this was a mistake that happened well over five years ago. We live in a different world now."

"What does all this have to do with your engagement?" asked Robert, seemingly ignoring Isobel. "Don't you know how disastrous this could turn out if the press found out about you, Mary?"

"But Robert, the press does know, in the form of Sir Richard Carlisle," Matthew said slowly.

"He found out through Vera Bates, and I don't know how she found out," Mary explained. "Sir Richard promised that if I married him, he wouldn't publish it. And it couldn't get published by any other paper because he had bought Mrs Bate's silence."

"And so you promised to marry him," Isobel finished. "Oh, my dear." She stood up, walked over to where Mary and Matthew were sitting and enveloped Mary in a hug.

"But how did you come to be engaged to Matthew?" asked Sybil.

"Well, Matthew found out …" Mary began, but Matthew interrupted.

"I realized that something was wrong with Mary's engagement to Carlisle. After a few questions, I realised that she was probably being forced into it and from there, Mary told me the reason for Carlisle's blackmailing of her," Matthew explained. "If she doesn't marry Carlisle, nothing can stop him from publishing, except in the small chance that he has some scrap of dignity somewhere. So, the best situation is for Mary to find her self married to a respectable man before the story can be published."

"And that's why you proposed," Sybil concluded. "Or, one of the reasons," she concluded with a grin. "I think it was obvious to everyone but you two, but it's clear that you've been in love ever since your argument over whether Matthew was Perseus or the sea monster."

"Sybil!"

"We've already shared a laugh over that memory," sighed Matthew. He turned his head towards Robert. "I'm sorry that I didn't ask for your blessing, but everything happened so quickly."

"It's all right, my son," Robert assured the younger man. "You're a much more honourable man than I ever can be. You're giving Mary a second chance and I'm proud of you and thankful for that. "

Isobel shook her head and said with a sigh, "It's amazing how messed up society can be at times. What purpose is there in printing a scandalous story about an earl's daughter that happen so long ago? People do things when they're young and even if it's not their fault, they suffer the consequences for the rest of their life."

"Perhaps we need to revolutionize the papers," grinned Sybil.

"Sybil!" said Robert sternly. "I've put up with nursing for the last two years, and you are _not_ starting a plan to revolutionize the papers. If they are going to change their systems, it will happen in its own good time."

"Yes, Papa," Sybil answered, but with a cheeky grin in Mary and Matthew's direction.

After the brief reprimand, Robert turned back to his daughter and soon to be son-in-law. "Matthew, I appreciate what you're doing for my daughter. I know you two have had your ups and downs, but I'm glad to see that you two have finally gotten your acts together. Mary, what's happened has happened. I do have to say I'm disappointed in you, but I can see that you were not at fault. I'm afraid the press won't see it that way. And Matthew, I give you two my blessing."

"Thank you, Papa," said a very relieved Mary. The person she had dreaded telling the most had been her father and as he was still accepting of her, nothing could continue to tie her down to her past. Her own personal war had at last come to an end.

"Now, shall we head in to dinner?" Robert inquired.

The rest of the family followed him into the dining room with Mary and Matthew coming last. "That went better than I thought it would," Mary said quietly.

"He's your father," Matthew stated. "And would have eventually come around. I'm thankful he realised right away that what happened wasn't your fault. Now, how do we break it to him that we're getting married in less than two weeks?"

"Announce it at dinner?" suggested Sybil, who had overheard him.

"Sybil!"

"Why is everyone yelling at me tonight?" Sybil asked with a laugh.

"Because you keep saying things that required getting yelled at about," Mary retorted.

At dinner, Cora asked, "When should we expect the wedding? I know you've already said you won't have a long engagement."

"Sometime in the next two weeks," Mary answered. "It needs to happen before Richard plans to return."

"Two weeks?" asked Robert in shock. "Do you honestly think a wedding can get planned in that amount of time?"

"Almost everyone that I wish to attend the wedding is already here," Mary stated. "Just have Aunt Rosamund come down from London and I think the guest list is almost settled." She turned towards Carson and said, "I would like as much of the staff as possible to be at the wedding."

"Of course, milady," Carson replied. "I know none of them would wish to miss it."

"Thank you," Mary replied. "And Matthew, are there any people you want to invite?"

"I know I want Edward to come," Matthew replied. "He's one of the officers who is recuperating here. And he's the only university friend I know the whereabouts of. I know the guest list is considered to be important, but to me the only important thing is that the wedding happens."

"Mary, are you certain you want a wedding that is this small and planned so quickly?" questioned Cora. "You've always dreamed a having a big wedding."

"No, Mama, you've always dreamed of me having a big wedding," Mary corrected. "I went along with it because it was what you wanted. Yes, at some point in my life I would have wanted a big wedding, but like Matthew said, the only important thing is that we're getting married."

"Very well, my dear," Cora replied. "Though, we must invite some of our friends. Should I send an invitation to Evelyn Napier? We haven't seen him since he was recovering here in 1916."

"That would be lovely," Mary agreed.

"We just need to remember that even though Downton is a home, it also is still a convalescent hospital," Isobel pointed out. "A few guests shouldn't be a problem, but no more."

"Thank you, Isobel," replied Cora. "But with the official end of the war tomorrow, isn't it time for the men to start planning on going back to their homes?"

"Cora, some of them are far from ready to try to return to their old lives," Isobel said firmly. "Downton has to stay open for as long as it is necessary."

"But we will have our house back," Cora continued.

"Mama!" said Sybil. "Downton's done a world of good for everyone who has been here. I know you want this to be our own house again, but surely there's something we can continue to do. It doesn't have to stay a hospital, but we can't go back to our old life."

"Good speech, Sybil," Matthew said quietly. "And I think you're right that we should continue to do something." He stopped for a few moments to gather his thoughts and then continued. "It could be as simple as helping the families whose fathers have been killed or wounded with education for their children or even job training."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Matthew," Isobel replied. "It would be a start for Downton to be a force of good in the community."

"But we already are," protested Cora. "We provide employment and a place to live."

"Yes, in your own individual house," Isobel said, "but not so much in the community at large. The entire village needs support: a support that in many ways, only your family can provide."

"Please, let's not get into an argument over this," begged Mary. "Not now. And Matthew, I do agree with you. A big house like this needs to be used in one way or another."

Matthew smiled across the table at his fiancée. She had changed so much in the six years he had known her and he was proud of the woman she had become.

"If we're done discussing the mechanisms of the house, shouldn't we at least do some wedding planning?" inquired Violet. "My dear, you will need a dress and some flowers must be ordered."

"I was thinking that some of the flowers from our garden might make a nice bouquet," replied Mary. "And I was going to ask Mr Moseley if he could spare a few roses."

"Mary, you can't use garden flowers in a wedding!" protested a shocked Violet.

"It's my wedding," Mary replied matter-of-factly, "and I can do what I want." Yes, flowers from one's own garden was rather odd for an aristocratic wedding, but her wedding wasn't going to be a normal one in the least, so she shouldn't try to make it appear normal.

"Very well dear," said a rather shaken Cora. She hadn't expected her daughter to be so determined when it came to keeping things simple.

"But what about a dress?" inquired Violet. "Or are you planning on wearing a nurse's uniform?"

"Granny!" Mary said with a laugh. "I'm not that rebellious. I wouldn't put it past Sybil to wear her nurse's uniform on her wedding day, but I will have a proper wedding dress." She caught Sybil's eye at the other end of the table and grinned as Sybil mock-glared at her. "Though, I'm not certain if it can get made in time."

"You can purchase dresses that are already made and get a seamstress to alter it if need be," said Isobel. "There are a few dressmaker shops in London which carry them."

"Flowers from the garden and pre-made wedding dresses," sighed Violet with a shake of her head. "What's next? Short veils? No train?"

"Granny, it's not the end of the world when traditions change," Edith said with a hint of amusement. "Times are changing and especially now we need to compensate."

"When are you planning on going to London then?" inquired Robert. "If your wedding is in less than two weeks, it will need to happen fairly soon."

"As I'll be going up sometime in the next week to visit Doctor Cotes, she can come up and dress shop," Matthew said. "We're also planning on purchasing wedding bands there as well, though Mary hopes to use one of the heirloom engagement rings."

"As long as they're not too ostentatious," added Mary. "I'm certain there's a fairly simple one in the collection somewhere.

"We will find one that fits," assured Robert. "I think my grandmother had a fairly simple engagement ring."

"Thank you, Robert," Matthew replied. It was strange that the past few months had gone by so slowly, but in these last two days, so much had happened and so much was about to happen. He wanted to get his visit with Dr Cotes in London done and was fairly certain it would happen before the wedding. That would make the next two weeks even busier, but he needed to get this appointment done as soon as possible. If the results turned out positive for spinal shock, which would be excellent and greatly help him and Mary as they got ready for their new life. However, if the results pointed towards the original diagnoses of a broken spine, he knew getting married to Mary was still the right course of action. He wasn't entirely certain why he believed this, but he knew it to be true. It was strange to think about: only a few months ago he was determined never to wed so as not to tie someone down, but now, he was hopefully going to be married in the space of two weeks.

* * *

The next day was the Armistice. Though, before the preparations for that event began, to the relief of everyone but Edith, it was discovered that Major Gordon had left Downton Abbey. "That has to mean he was an imposter," stated Mary, more firmly than she usually would. She was still slightly rattled from the events of the past few days. Less than forty-eight hours previously she had been engaged to Sir Richard Carlisle and on the verge of a doomed marriage. Now, even though she hadn't officially broken the engagement with Carlisle, it technically was over and she would be marrying the one man she wanted to marry, but had never thought it to be possible.

"Mary, what's the matter?" asked Matthew as he entered the small library, knowing that something was wrong with his fiancée.

"Nothing," Mary answered calmly. "At least, nothing of great importance." She didn't see the need to tell him about Sir Richard's threats at the station from the other day. After all, they were about to simply be empty threats.

Matthew eyed Mary suspiciously, knowing there was more to the story than she was letting on, but he didn't say anything. If she wanted him to know, she'd tell him in good time. If it was anything to do with Sir Richard, he knew that it wasn't something that would need to be worried about for much longer. Unless it involved Sir Richard making one of those surprise visits he was notorious for making. If it came to that, there was something to be worried about, which was why the sooner they were married, the better. "Are you ready for the Armistice today?" Matthew inquired at last, deciding a change of subject was for the best. It was about nine o'clock in the morning and the Armistice would be signed in two hours.

Mary nodded. "It will be wonderful to have this war over. I don't know what life will be like though. So much has changed. Granny and Mama want the world to go back to the way it used to be, but I know that cannot happen." She slowly glanced around the room as her eyes took in all the changes, both great and small, that had happened over the course of the years. The drapes were shabbier than they had ever been during her entire life. Even the blackout curtains that everyone had gotten after the zeppelin raid in 1915 were rather worn. Nearly everything in the house had been used to its upmost potential and, in some cases, beyond. "Though, getting new curtains and upholstery will be nice," she said with a grin. "However, considering there is a bit of use left in the furniture before the stuffing starts to come out, I think those who truly need the help should get it before my family starts buying a lot of things. It's like what we discussed at dinner, Downton still needs to be used for the good of the community."

Matthew stared at his fiancée in awe. Even though he was getting used to this version of Mary, she still surprised him. Before the war, the Mary he had known would never have said anything of the sort. "I doubt the world that we lived in before will be recognizable," he murmured softly. "And I know that it is an impossibility for any of us to fit in the world as it used to be, even if it could come back." He carefully adjusted his chair and slowly rolled to where Mary was standing and looking out of a window across the estate.

"So much has changed and yet, so much stays the same," Mary said softly. "Even though I know so much change has happened, a simple glance out of the window doesn't reveal much change."

"Other than a few faces that are gone or changed forever," Matthew said quietly. "And the children as they grow up." At the mention of the word children, he suddenly looked down in his lap. He would never be a father and Mary would never be a mother. Why had he proposed? Deep down in his heart, he knew the reason why. He did truly love her and he knew that she loved him. Matthew hoped that Mary could see this reason and didn't simply see him as the man who rescued her from the clutches of Sir Richard Carlisle. He doubted that she did, knowing that she did love him, but it was still a possibility and not one that he wanted to consider.

For a few seconds, Mary looked and felt rather stricken. Yes, she knew what marriage to Matthew would involve, but at the moment, it wasn't important. For now, all that mattered was marrying him and becoming free of Carlisle, though marrying Matthew was far more important. Not for the first time did she wish that she had accepted him four years ago, but at last they both had managed to put aside their stubbornness for long enough for them to realize that they loved each other.

A little while later, the Crawleys, the soldiers, and the servants were all assembled in the front hall to await the strike of eleven, on which the Armistice would be signed and the Great War, the War to End all Wars, would be over.

"I think while the clock strikes we should all make a silent prayer to mark the finish of this terrible war," Robert said once everyone had assembled. "And what that means for each and every one of us. Let us remember the sacrifices that have been made and the men who will never come back and give them our thanks.

As the clock began to strike, Matthew straightened up as best he could and mentally went through the list of all the men in the company he had commanded as well as the many friends who had served as well. He remembered each and every name. So many of them had not lived to see this day and many of the ones that did were permanently injured. Lastly, he thought of William. He would be forever grateful to the young soldier, his friend, who had saved his life. He might not have much of a life anymore, but he had one.

Mary glanced around the room as the meaning of this day sunk in. At long last the dreadful war was over. She might not have observed it to the extent that the soldiers recovering in their house had, but she still had seen the consequences of the war. Many of the men she had danced with and otherwise socialised with during and after her coming out had fought and several of them had been killed or injured. The world had changed and so had everyone around it, though there were those who tried to resist the oncoming changes. She knew that this war would not be one that would simply pass into the history books. No, this had been a war of change and that the entire world was indebted to all those who had fought and sacrificed in it.

When the clock finished striking, Robert said, "Thank you everyone. Remember, this is not just the end of a long war, but it is the dawn of a new age. God bless you all."

As Bates began to push him towards his room, despite his protests that he could wheel himself, Matthew once again wondered what it had been all for. Yes, they had won the war, but it had been such a great cost, a cost that should not have happened.

* * *

_**Stephanie: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you're enjoying the twists in the story. I have to say that some of them have taken me by surprise. Oh, and I'm looking forward to writing Carlisle's reaction. I have a feeling it's going to be interesting and rather entertaining to write.**_

_**Hogfan: Thanks for the review. Don't worry, nothing is going to happen with Edith knowing about the wedding plan. She's changed and for the better. As how Carlisle got his knighthood, I have no idea. I may explore it at some point if I figure something out. And yes, it probably wasn't in the most respectable of ways.**_

_**Aoibh: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.**_


	12. A London Trip

_**So, this chapter just kept growing in in length as well. Hope you enjoy it as it was definitely one of the more challenging chapters I've written.**_

_**This chapter is set specifically around the 14th-17th of November, 1918.**_

It was hard to get used to the idea that they were at peace, if that could be the word. It felt strange and almost foreign to Matthew's tongue. He also knew that no matter how much the politicians talked about peace and going back to the way of life that everyone once had lived, there was no way of that happening. There had been too much devastation, too much change over the past four years that everything except for change was impossible.

A few days after the Armistice, Doctor Clarkson told Matthew that he was strong enough to travel to London to see Doctor Cotes again. In some ways, Matthew didn't want to go because it could very easily deny all his hopes, but at the same time, there was a chance he might find out it was possible to recover. That evening, when Isobel came up to Downton, he told his mother of his plans.

"And who is to go with you?" Isobel asked gently.

"Mary, naturally," Matthew said slowly. "And I suppose Moseley will need to come as well." He was just beginning to realize for the first time exactly what travel in his state meant. He wouldn't be able to simply get onto a train and go wherever he wished. "And you can if you wish."

"I don't want to intrude, as you are an adult," Isobel began, "but you also are my son."

"Oh, Mother," Matthew said with a sigh. "Please, I want you to come." He knew that he would need both his mother and fiancée with him for support as he had a feeling it would be a trying time for them all.

"Very well," Isobel replied. "Shall I call Mary?"

"Yes," answered Matthew with a nod. Before Isobel left the room she gently placed her hand on Matthew's shoulder. "I know you have been told this before, but you have been so strong lately. I'm hoping and praying for a positive outcome from this visit, but even if there isn't one, we're all behind you."

"Thank you, Mother," Matthew said as a few tears threatened to enter his eyes. He looked up into her eyes and saw the deep love that had been in there for so many months. There wasn't a hint of pity. There never had been in all the months since his accident and he was ever so grateful for that. Pity was the one thing that he couldn't stand from anyone.

The next day, Matthew, Moseley, Mary, and Isobel were on their way to London. It had taken quite a bit of planning to get them organized, especially in regards to transportation to the train station. It took both Moseley and Branson to get Matthew out of his wheelchair and into the motor. Even then, it took some work to get him settled. Matthew did the best he could to help, but even he knew that it wasn't much. He also knew that if he was destined to life in a chair, he would never be able to get into a motor without help as his wheelchair and the motor were at different heights. Once Matthew was settled, Branson helped Mary and Isobel in as well. Moseley climbed up front and then they were off.

Getting on the train was even more complicated, but with help, Matthew was able to get in the coach and was settled on one of the seats as there was no room for his chair, which he was very thankful for. The fact that he was in a normal seat for once made him fell almost back to normal, except for the fact that he was stuck there until they got to London. Mosley and two porters took the luggage and wheelchair to the luggage compartment and then Moseley went to his seat towards the back of the train. Mary and his mother had sat down across from him and the train ride began.

"Are you ready for this?" Isobel asked quietly.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Matthew answered as he squeezed his knee yet again. He still hadn't lost hope of there being some sensation, but he felt like he should know that the hope was fruitless. However, if Doctor Cotes was right, and this paralysis was temporary, he should have felt something by now, even if it was just a slight tingle.

Mary reached across and gently took his hand. When he looked up at her touch, Mary said, "Whatever happens, it's going to be okay."

Matthew wanted to snort at her comment, but refrained. "I doubt 'okay' is the correct word in this situation," he muttered. Then, forcing his countenance into a more cheerful expression, he added, "At any rate, I'm on the road to recovery." And hopefully more than merely travel, he thought.

For the most part, the trip elapsed in silence. Isobel had packed a few books, so Matthew had had his choice of novels. He finally settled on a copy of Dicken's Oliver Twist. It had been a favourite book in childhood and he hadn't read it in years. In fact, he was fairly certain that he hadn't read it since his father's passing.

After what seemed like a fairly short trip, they arrived in London. "Reading really does make the time go faster," Matthew murmured when they pulled into King's Cross Station.

It took quite a bit of work, and a rather large degree of embarrassment on Matthew's part, to get out of the train. Moseley brought his wheelchair around and brought it to the door of the private compartment the three had shared. The transfer happened fairly quickly, but it was much to slow for Matthew. He couldn't stand being lifted and carried as if he were a baby and desperately hoped that this action wouldn't have to continue for much longer.

They had arrived fairly late in the day, so they immediately went to the hotel to settle in. Thankfully, Isobel had called ahead and insisted on the two rooms they reserved to be on the ground floor. Even though the hotel had a lift, she didn't want to go through all the hassle that came with using one.

The next day, they trekked the three blocks to the hospital. Everywhere around them were signs pointing to a nation recovering from war. Even over the short distance, Matthew saw many soldiers. Some were standing still having a smoke and still others were wandering about. Some walked with a limp; others had an empty sleeve blowing in the slight breeze. No matter what they were doing, Matthew could see the weight of war on the shoulders of each and everyone. He knew that he looked like that as well.

As they settled in the waiting room waiting for his appointment, Matthew began to rock back and forth slightly to calm his nerves. He couldn't pace, so this was the best alternative at the moment. This day, the next few hours, would decide whether or not he had the chance of recovery. If his spine had not been broken, there would be a slight chance of some recovery, but if his spine had been broken, there would and could never be recovery. Oh, there would be improvements, but he knew that if the outcome were to be the latter, he'd be stuck in the wheelchair for the rest of his life.

Matthew didn't know how much time passed while they waited, but it couldn't have been very long for soon Sir John Cotes entered the room. "The x-ray room is set up," he announced. "Mr Crawley, you're going to have to come alone for this part. Your mother and cousin may join us later in the examination room, if you wish them to."

Matthew bit his lip in thought. Naturally, he was an adult, so he didn't exactly wish to have his mother in a doctor's examination room with him. On the other hand, it would be calming to have her and Mary's support. After a few moments' pause, he said at last, "Yes, I would like them to be in the room when the x-rays are examined."

"Very well," the doctor replied. He turned towards Matthew. "Can you wheel yourself to the x-ray room or would you like me to push you?"

"I can do it," Matthew responded. He had to hold on to the little pieces of independence he had gained.

The room where the x-ray was to be done was huge. There was a wooden bed-like structure in the centre and a rather curiously shaped machine attached to the ceiling above the bed. "Is that the x-ray machine?" Matthew enquired upon entry.

Sir John responded in the affirmative. Then said, "I'm going to need you to get into a hospital gown. Can you do this without assistance, or will you need help?"

As much as Matthew wished he could reply that he could do it alone, he knew that he would need help, both with getting his trousers off and getting the gown on, due to its style. "I will need some help," he answered with a sigh. "I'm getting better at dressing myself, but there are still some things I need a little help with." He could hardly wait for the day that he'd be able to get his clothes on and off by himself. Generally, he was able to do his shirt and tie and sometimes he could manage to get his trousers on and off, though someone did need to handle his shoes. Granted, it often took quite some time, but he didn't care. This time though, as his shoes weren't already off and because he wasn't putting normal clothes on, he knew that the best idea would be to have assistance, but hopefully this would be one of the last times.

A short while, and a small amount of embarrassment later, Matthew was dressed in the hospital gown and sitting in his wheelchair next to the bed. Doctor Cotes began to explain the procedure. "This box here," he said, as he pointed to a box-shaped part of the machine directly above the bed, "is where the tube that the x-rays go through is. I'll be the one controlling the flow. They will take a picture of your back, which I'll have to develop in the darkroom. It shouldn't take much more than an hour or two for that." He paused for a moment, then said, "Are you ready?"

It was now or never. In about two hours time, he would know whether or not he'd actually broken his back. Matthew still believed that that had actually happened, but he truly was beginning to doubt Doctor Clarkson's diagnoses. He didn't want it to be true. If he had to use a cane for the rest of his life, so be it. He just wanted to be able to stand up on his own two feet, something that he hadn't done in almost four long months. "Yes," he finally said. Sir John and the assisting doctor helped him out of his wheelchair and laid him on his stomach on the bed.

"You're going to have to lie very still," commanded Sir John. "And when I'm about to take the picture, you'll have to hold your breath."

"Okay," Matthew said, hoping his nervousness didn't show in his voice. It's going to be okay, he mentally told himself. Please God, let it be okay.

Very quickly, the process was over. Matthew was surprised at the speed the actual photo was taken in, but knew that the wait to see it was going to be very stressful. The other doctor helped him back into his clothes and took him back to the waiting room where a very anxious Mary and mother waited.

"Well?" asked Isobel.

"We won't know for about an hour or two," Matthew stated, "it takes that long for the x-ray to be developed."

"Let's not wait around here all day," stated Mary. "If we have that much time, how about a bite to eat?"

"I'd like that," Matthew agreed. "I think there's a small corner café nearby. I'm not in the mood for anything fancy."

"I believe that will do just nicely," finished Isobel. And so, the three went off to lunch.

About an hour-and-a-half later, they returned to the hospital, where they found Doctor Cotes waiting for them. "The results are ready," he said rather slowly.

"Ready, Matthew?" Mary asked in a tone barely above a whisper. She was trying to hold her nervousness in, but was afraid she wasn't doing a good job of it.

Matthew nodded and tightly gripped his wheelchair as he slowly maneuverered his way down the hall. Soon, they were all squeezed into the rather tiny examination room.

"I don't know how to say this," Sir John began at last, "but I guess showing you is the best way." He dimmed the main lights in the room, and after picking up the large piece of black photography paper, he shined a light in the back of it.

Almost as clearly as if it had been a skeleton, Mary, Matthew, and Isobel saw the image of Matthew's spine. The upper part looked normal, or what Mary assumed to be normal as she had never seen a picture quite like this one before. However, as her eyes travelled down, she saw the reason the doctor had been so hesitant. There was an area in the lower-middle section that clearly had suffered trauma. Mary didn't even need look closely to see that Matthew's spine had been broken. It was obvious that two or three of the spinal bones had been severely injured. They appeared to either have been separated from each other or individually broken. Any fractures that had happened were healed at this point, but everything clearly stated that something wasn't right. There could only be one possible meaning of this outcome: Matthew's spine had been well and truly broken. She stifled a gasp as she looked up at Matthew and Isobel. Isobel wasn't saying anything and had her handkerchief covering her mouth, but Mary knew that this was a devastating blow. Matthew was the worst to look at though. His face contained complete and utter shock. And pain, a great pain was in his eyes.

Isobel had her handkerchief covering her mouth as she stared in shock at the x-ray. She had known all along that this result had been a possibility, but she hadn't prepared herself for the actuality of it. This blow was a devastating one and it would mean immense and permanent change for her son and everyone else. Her son, her darling son, had been terribly injured and she knew that he'd need all the support he could get. He would get it, she knew, but would be accept it?

When the doctor had first shown the image of the x-ray, Matthew was half-expecting to see an image of what a normal spine looked like. He of course, knew what this was supposed to look like due to his peering through his father's medical books in his youth. What he wasn't expecting to see was what he actually saw. His eyes were immediately drawn to the imperfection. There he could clearly see that a break had indeed happened. His brain stopped processing. All he could see was the small part of the picture. Broken, broken, broken. He kept forming the words with his mouth. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't! But the x-ray informed what was the truth, what he had wished not be the truth for the past month.

"No," he moaned. "No. No!" With each 'no', his voice had gotten louder, until he was nearly shouting.

"I'm truly sorry," Sir John said. "I had hoped that this would not be the outcome."

Matthew could feel his breathing beginning to become unsteady and he tried to calm himself, but it couldn't happen. He knew that if he didn't calm down soon, he'd begin to hyperventilate. Suddenly, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. "Matthew," voice whispered in his ear. "Matthew, calm down." His slow brain soon realised that it was Mary who was speaking to him.

"Mary," he murmured as he shut his eyes in a desperate attempt to wipe out the image he had just seen. He wouldn't happen though. Even when he shut his eyes, he still saw that picture of the x-ray that foretold his future as a cripple. He was doomed to spend the rest of his life sitting in a wheelchair and relying on others to help him in everyday activities.

"Matthew, son," Isobel said at last as she too placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She had finally calmed down enough to speak.

"Mother," Matthew replied with a low moan. "Mary." He paused for a long while as his mind reeled with all he had learned in the last few minutes. "Why?" he asked at last.

"I don't know," Isobel said simply. "But we will work through this, one way or another."

Matthew looked up into his mother's eyes and saw deep concern and love, but not pity. There never was pity in her eyes when she looked at him and for that he was immensely grateful. Even in this short trip he had seen many a passer-by give him a look of pity and now he knew he'd be seeing that glance for the rest of his life. He turned and looked at Mary, his fiancée. She knelt down next to him and clasped on of his hands in her own. She didn't say a word, but she didn't need to.

"Matthew, would you like to return to the hotel?" Isobel asked gently after a few moments of silence.

The hotel, of course they would have to return there for the night. It was only early afternoon, and as much as he wished they could simply return to Downton this evening, Matthew knew that he simply wasn't strong enough, plus he and Mary had wedding shopping. He didn't want to return to the hotel. He didn't want to do anything. Maybe if he stayed here long enough, this whole thing would pass. He reached over and pinched himself on his arm, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. Alas, what was happening was real. Matthew knew that he should have been expecting this outcome: that he should have been prepared for it. And so he had thought. But, as he had sadly found out, expecting something to be true and finding out where two entirely different matters.

Matthew at last looked up and saw that Sir John was still in the room. "Is there anything that can be done?" Matthew asked, knowing that the answer had to be in the negative.

"I'm so sorry, but there isn't," admitted the doctor slowly. "I'm sorry for getting your hopes up with my visit last month. I was so certain that it was spinal shock."

"It's not your fault," Matthew said after several minutes of silence. "I allowed myself to get too hopeful even though I was almost positive that this would be the outcome. It's my fault. I really should have expected this result." He struggled to keep a calm exterior. He had always been fairly capable of hiding his feelings, but recently, they had refused to stay put. He quickly wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye.

"Thank you, doctor," Isobel said quietly.

"I just wish I could have had better news for you," Sir John replied sadly. "There is research going on in the field of paralysis and if there's ever information that might help you, I will pass it on."

"I do have one question," Matthew said. He had been mulling this over in his head for quite some time and figured that he should ask. He had to know, both for his sake and for Mary's. "Doctor Clarkson said … he said that … that I'd be unable to … to father children."

Sir John sat down and looked Matthew in the eye as he said rather seriously, "I wouldn't say that it's a definite inability, but rather that there is an extremely small chance of you possibly fathering children. The chance is extremely small, but I do think that it is there. Of course, this all depends on the precise details of your injury, but I have known men who after paralysis did father children."

Even though this day had been one of the most devastating days in his life, the mere chance of being a father elated Matthew. He no longer felt that it was selfish to have proposed to Mary. Even though he knew they loved each other and that Mary was free from Carlisle, the idea of not having children with her had made things difficult in his mind. Now though, there was a possibility of being a father and Matthew was certain that that possibility was one of the best things he had heard in the last three months.

During this moment of relief, Mary took the chance to steal another glance at Isobel. Even though there was still shock and sadness in her face, Mary could also see some relief. She too was extremely relieved that there was a possibility of Doctor Clarkson being wrong in regards to Matthew having children. She knew that the prognosis from the good doctor had devastated her father and Matthew, not to mention the rest of the family as well. It had devastated her as well, and even though she had given up the idea of having children simply to be with Matthew, it was wonderful to know that they had a chance of having a child.

"Mother, Mary, I'm ready to leave," Matthew said after thinking about what the doctor had said. He wasn't entirely certain if he wanted to relay this news to the rest of the family. At the moment, the two most important people in his life knew and that was enough. Granted, he'd naturally have to tell them the results of the x-ray, but he didn't want to share the possibility of him fathering a child, at least not yet. If it ended up being impossible, he knew that Robert would be devastated yet again.

As the three of them took their leave, Matthew paused for a brief moment in the doorway. He had entered the room hoping against hope that he'd stand again, but was leaving it knowing that for the rest of his life he'd be confined to a wheelchair.

Isobel hung back for a few moments after Matthew and Mary had left the office. "Is there anything we can do, doctor?" she asked quietly. "I've heard of cases where paralyzed patients were able to get some movement back."

Sir John took in a deep breath before replying, "I highly doubt it. Your son's injury occurred around the eighth or ninth vertebrae in the thoracic section of the back. As you could tell by the x-ray, this area is just below the centre of the spine. I have never seen a patient gain recovery of movement when the injury is above or at the ninth vertebrae."

As Isobel let out a long sigh and turned to leave, Sir John added, "Mrs Crawley, I wish you and your son the best. What was his occupation before the war?"

"A solicitor," Isobel replied.

The doctor nodded slowly and said, "Well, that is a job he could very easily go back to, if he so wished."

"I think that is something he wants to do. Or at least, Matthew has thought about it."

"Just make certain he doesn't fall into depression or tries to hurt himself," advised Sir John.

Isobel looked startled, as neither of those possibilities had occurred to her. "Do you think that could happen?" she asked. "It hasn't happened yet, at least, not from what I can see. I know he was depressed for quite some time after the accident, but he seems to be getting better."

"That may very well be," stated Sir John, "but now he has had confirmation about the nature of his accident. I doubt that whatever happens will be worse than his reactions back in August, but you do need to be prepared."

Isobel nodded slowly. She highly doubted that her son would do anything drastic, after all, he had told her and Mary that he never would, even though the idea had briefly crossed his mind a few times soon after the accident. "Thank you, doctor," Isobel replied slowly. "I'd say I'd keep an eye on him, but I think Mary will be the one doing it."

"It's a very good thing he has family to support him," Sir John said. "So often, injured veterans find themselves without caring friends and family. Your son is very lucky."

* * *

"What do you think is taking Mother so long?" Matthew wondered as he and Mary waited for Isobel.

"She's probably trying to find out of there's something she can do to help you recover," Mary answered softly.

Matthew huffed and said grumpily, "Recovery? Humph. I know that isn't happening. Not on this earth anyway." He didn't know why was so angry. It wasn't Mary, his mother, or either of the doctors' faults. If there was anyone to blame, it was himself for being in that exact stop when the shell blast occurred. If he hasn't been standing there at that precise moment, he'd probably be standing on his own two feet. Or he might be dead. Matthew knew that he was forever grateful to William Mason for saving his life. This life certainly wasn't one he wanted to live, but it was one, even if he was a cripple.

"Matthew, you knew this was the most likely outcome," Mary replied softly. "You were making such wonderful progress in your attitude and I'd like to see that again." She paused for a brief moment and continued, "You're my fiancé and I'd really like to see a more cheerful demeanour."

Matthew looked down at his lap. He knew that Mary was right. He had known that finding out that his spine was broken had been the most likely outcome, but he didn't want to accept it. That sliver of hope he had been given didn't want to go away, even though it was now a hopeless hope. The one good thing he had heard today was the fact that there was a slight possibility of having a child with Mary. "I just wish I hadn't hoped so much," he said at last in a very low voice. "I tried so hard not to, but … " His voice trailed off and he couldn't think of what to say next. "Do you even want me as your husband if I'm a cripple? I can't even get out of bed on my own, much less take care of myself."

"Matthew Reginald Crawley!" cried a horrified Mary. "How can you dream of asking such a question?"

"Mary, I'm confined to this chair for the rest of my life!" Matthew responded. "I love you, more deeply than I've every loved anyone. I just want you to be happy."

"Matthew, I'll be happier with you in whatever happens than I could ever be with anyone else," Mary said. "Richard and I had a relationship of utility and I know years ago our's was one of pleasure, but now I want ours to be one of virtue.*"

"Mary, while I want that as well, I don't want to turn you into a nursemaid," Matthew protested feebly.

"I know," Mary murmured. She also knew that Matthew wasn't entirely comprehending what he was saying at the moment. The fact that the two of them truly loved each other outweighed whatever hardships might come their way. "But, even though you're in a wheelchair doesn't mean you're helpless. Yes, there are some things that you can't do anymore, but I think you'll be surprised at the number of things you can do. We'll just discover new ways of doing things."

"Mary!" Matthew cried out in shock. "Not here!" If Mary was talking about what he thought she was talking about, this wasn't the place.

"We're an engaged couple," Mary answered with a laugh. "We do need to start figuring things out. Of course, nothing will actually happen until after the wedding, but I know there are ways. After all, the doctor did say you could possibly father children."

At this point, they were both out in the lobby. Once Matthew had stopped moving and had put the brake on, Mary promptly sat down in his lap. She positioned herself so she could see Matthew's face and gently stroked his arm.

"Mary, darling, this is hardly the place," he protested, but he was relishing the feeling of her arm on his. If only he could feel where she was sitting, everything would be perfect. But, there was no point wasting his energy on wanting something that could never happen. He could and would have Mary as his wife in just a few short days and that was something worth having.

* * *

That night at dinner in the hotel restaurant, no one spoke a word for quite some time. Matthew spent more time moving his food around on his plate than he did in eating it.

"Matthew, you're going to have to eat if you don't want to become a pile of skin and bones," said Isobel gently.

"That's what I am!" retorted Matthew. "At least half of me is that way." He angrily moved his chair back, and once clear of the table, headed for the hotel room.

Mary got up to follow him, but was stopped by a firm hand at her elbow. "Leave him be," Isobel whispered. "He's hurting."

"It seems almost worse this time," Mary sighed. "You weren't there during those first few days when he was in the hospital. Once I told him about his injury, he seemed so distant for the first few days. Later, it seemed that he was almost accepting of it. Now though … I don't know. I just wish I knew how to help."

Isobel let out a long sigh. "Mary, I appreciate your trying to understand Matthew. But I don't think anyone can, not truly. He was such an energetic little boy: always off doing something." Isobel paused for a few moments, then continued, "Now, I-I don't know what to do. I want to help him and I know you do too, but until he decides to allow us to help him, we have to sit back and wait."

"He's stubborn," Mary stated. "I know that trait of his all to well. I just hope he realizes that he will need his family, and not just for help, but for healing." She sighed, and then added, "These past months, he seems to go back and forth between acceptance and anger. I had finally thought the anger was a thing of the past, but today showed me it isn't."

"I think that's a fairly normal attitude," Isobel replied. "It would be worse of he simply accepted everything that got thrown at him from the doctors. As for his stubbornness, he knows he has it. It's just a matter of time for him to admit it."

* * *

They had planned out their schedule so that there was a complete day between the appointment in London and when they returned home. It was decided that the time would be used for wedding shopping. After all, wedding rings and a wedding dress were both necessities. Plus, Matthew needed something to do to get his mind off of the news from yesterday.

He was quieter this morning than he normally was. Both Isobel and Mary were keeping a close eye on him to make certain he didn't sink into the depressed state he had been in four months previously. Both of the women knew that a more serious demeanor was a part of nearly all veterans, so they weren't worried about his silence. Not at the moment, anyway.

Matthew seemed to cheer up a bit more when they went out, but it was obvious he was trying to put on a cheerful facade for their sakes.

"How are you this morning?" Isobel inquired as they made their way to a jewelry shop.

For a short while, Matthew didn't say anything, but then he finally said, "Numb. I know what I found out yesterday, but I am unable to accept it. I just can't."

Mary placed her hand on his shoulder. "Matthew, we're all here for you and want to help you."

Matthew huffed. "And when your father realizes that the estate is being passed on to a cripple who most likely won't produce an heir?" he asked angrily.

"Matthew!" reprimanded Mary sternly. "We've had discussions that you're not to use that word to describe yourself. Your mind is still whole and intact. That is a blessing. You still have the qualities that make you, you. Papa knows that, he's given us his blessing, and even though you'll never stand on your feet, we both know that you'll be one of the best Earls of Grantham ever."

"But Mary…," began Matthew.

"You truly are my Perseus," Mary finished. "And you rescued me from the sea monster."

"Is that memory of our first dinner going to follow the both of us till our dying day?" asked Matthew, though he was slightly amused.

"Considering that part of it rang true, I'm afraid so," Mary answered teasingly.

Matthew mock-glared at his fiancée, but he was already feeling a bit better. That numbness was still inside and he was certain that it would always be there. It would probably abate over time, but he would never be the same man he had been four years ago.

"Just don't destroy each other with insults," Isobel said with a smile. From their first meeting, it had been a battle of wits between two of them and it would certainly be a continuing one throughout their lives.

"But an heir," Matthew repeated.

"Matthew, that is a long way in the future," Mary stated firmly. "And we might be able to have children." She paused and quickly added, "There's always adoption. I'm sure there are a great many war orphans in need of a home."

Matthew stared gobsmacked at his fiancée. He had heard many surprising things come out of Mary's mouth over these part few months, but this was the most surprising yet.

"Adoption?" he asked, wanting to make certain he understood her.

"Yes," Mary replied. "It would be an adventure. I don't know how much we'd be supported by my family, but it's a way we can be parents."

"I'll support you in whatever endeavors happen," said Isobel firmly. "If you two want to travel down that road, it will be a blessing."

"It's a bit early to think about at the moment," Matthew said. "But it's definitely something I'd consider."

By this point, they had arrived at the jewelry shop. Mary took Matthew's chair from Moseley and the two of them entered the shop.

"Mary, dear, what's your opinion on this ring?" asked Matthew. They had told the owner that they were looking for a fairly simple ring and he had shown them a case. The rings were certainly not cheap, but they were simple in style.

Mary took the ring that Matthew handed her. It was a simple silver wedding band, but quite lovely. "I think it's perfect," she answered. "And it matches the engagement ring quite nicely." The engagement ring they had settled on was a silver band with three small diamonds on it. It had been one of the simpler rings in the case, which was one reason Mary had gravitated towards it. She hadn't wanted anything showing after the ostentatious ring Sir Richard had gotten her.

As they were purchasing the rings, the clerk asked, "if I may inquire, when is your special day?"

"Wednesday," Mary answered. "I know we're rather late in purchasing the wedding rings, but it's been extremely busy." Not to mention they had only gotten engaged a short while ago.

"Weddings are a lot of work to plan," agreed the clerk. "And my bride's family did most of the work.

"Indeed they are," agreed Matthew. "The chaos is settling in among my fiancée's family."

"Chaos is a part of weddings," clerk replied. He turned to Mary and said, "Though, I'm surprise that nothing has been announce in the papers regarding your wedding. As the eldest daughter of an earl and marrying the heir, I would have thought it to be a big event."

"If not for the recent war, it probably would be," Mary replied. "It doesn't feel right to spend so much on a fancy event when so many people need basic necessities. We decided a small wedding was for the best." This was the story she and Matthew had settled on should they be asked by the small wedding. Even though it was true, it wasn't the entirety of it.

"And that's a very noble idea, Lady Mary," stated the clerk as he finished ringing up their purchase.

As they were about to exit the shop, the rings in a small package on Matthew's lap, the clerk stopped them.

"Mr Crawley, I want to tell you thank you for serving your country," the clerk said quietly. "And congratulations on your marriage, Mr Crawley, Lady Mary."

"Thank you," replied Matthew as Mary began pushing him out.

Due to the rather narrow streets and seemingly endless amounts of people and cars, Matthew had opted not to wheel himself around while in London, at the present moment anyway. Once he was more comfortable and steadier at wheeling himself, then he'd try his best to never be pushed.

"Now is it time for wedding dress shopping?" asked Matthew as he twisted around a bit to look at Mary.

"It is, but you cannot come in," Mary stated firmly. "Even though our wedding is defying several traditions, you are not seeing the dress until I'm in it walking towards the alter."

"Mary!" protested Matthew.

"And that's a fact," stated Mary firmly. "I want you to be surprised when you see me." Not to mention the fact that she also had some lingerie shopping to do as well. She didn't have any undergarments that were appropriate for a married woman.

"I suppose I can part from you for you to do dress shopping," sighed Matthew. "Moseley, could you take me back to the hotel? This is a shopping excursion for women only."

"Certainly, Mr Crawley," Moseley replied and he took control of the chair.

Once the gentlemen were out of sight, the two ladies went to the dress shop that Isobel had mentioned.

"Thank you for mentioning this place," Mary said as she looked around. "I never would have had enough time to get one made."

"It's quite alright," Isobel assured. "I am simply thrilled that you're marrying my son in just a few days. Now, is there a specific style you're interested in? Gaudy, simple, modern?"

"Most certainly not gaudy," stated Mary firmly. "And oddly enough, I think I'm leaning towards a simpler gown. After all, it is going to be a simple wedding and the bride's dress ought to fit the style of wedding."

"Well said," Isobel agreed and she began peering through the various racks of dresses. "What about this?" she asked as she held up a white dress that had a simple style, but was draped in lace.

"Too much lace," shuddered Mary. "I can't tell if what you're holding is a dress or a veil."

"I think you're too much like your grandmother when it comes to your rather sharp comments," sighed Isobel. "Hopefully Matthew will be able to keep up with you in your arguments."

"He already can keep up," said Mary. "I'm more worried about when his wit surpasses mine."

"That would be very entertaining to see," Isobel said with a laugh. She pulled another dress out of the rack. "What about this one?"

The dress was floor length with sleeves that barely came over the shoulder. There was some lace about the skirt, but the bodice was made of silk with a white, silk rose on the left shoulder and a silken sash from the rose to the waist on the right side.

"It's beautiful!" gasped Mary. "And perfect."

"Good," said Isobel. She loved the dress as well. "Do you need a veil and tiera or are you using your mother's?"

"Mana's," Mary replied. "Well, technically it's Granny's, but Mama used it as well."

They purchased the dress and ordered it shipped to Downton, then went a few stores down to a lingere shop. Mary was surprised at how skimpy the underclothes were, but they were for only the bedroom and one's husband's eyes. After a short time of searching, Mary had settled on the items she needed. Soon everything was purchased and in parcels to ship home.

* * *

Meanwhile, Matthew and Moseley had arrived back at the hotel. Once in the privacy of his room, Matthew said, "I need to learn how to get in and out of bed on my own. Can you help me?"

"Certainly, sir," Moseley answered. "Do you think you're strong enough?"

"There's only one way to find out," replied Matthew and he wheeled himself next to the bed. After positioning the wheelchair so it was parallel to the bed, he applied the brake, and pushed himself up on his arms. In a fluid motion, he tried to swing his lower body over the bed, but missed and landed in a heap on the floor.

Moseley was next to him in a second. Matthew grudgingly allowed his valet to help him up onto the bed, where he flopped back in embarrassment. "I can't even get into a bed on my own," he muttered.

"It hasn't been very long since your injury, sir," said Moseley. "With time, in certain you'll have the arm strength to transfer yourself."

"Time," Matthew huffed. "That's what everybody is saying. Time is not going to heal me."

"I'm certain you'll figure something out, sir," Moseley said. "Would you like to try again?"

"Not at the moment," Matthew said with a sigh. "When the women return, I'll get back in my chair."

"Very well, sir," Moseley replied. "Would you like me to leave the chair where it is?"

"Leave it, please," answered Matthew. As soon as the door had closed, Matthew let out another long sigh. In his current situation, he was damn close to being useless. Yes, he had his mind and his soul, though he didn't know what the difference between the two of them was, and everyone had said he was still Matthew Reginald Crawley, even though he had changed drastically. Even though he might still have all the cognitive parts of himself, half of his body was completely useless and would always be so. He hadn't wanted to tie anyone down to being his wife/nursemaid, but in many ways, Mary would have a freer life married to him than to a worthless person like Sir Richard, who didn't deserve to have the term person attributed to him.

A short while later, Moseley entered to tell him his mother and fiancée were back from their excursion.

Matthew slowly eased himself into a sitting position and moved his legs so they hung limply over edge. He stared at his useless limbs for a few moments before allowing Moseley to help him into the wheelchair.

Once he was settled, he wheeled himself to the small living area between the two rooms they had rented.

"Did you get everything you needed?" Matthew asked as he entered, looking around for any signs of packages.

"We did," Mary answered. "And everything is being shipped to Downton this evening to make certain you don't see anything until the wedding."

"I'm looking forward to it," Matthew replied with one of the rare genuine smiles that she so loved. He took her hand in his and stroked the hand with the engagement ring. "Only a few more days, and you'll be mine."

Mary couldn't believe the amount of changes that had recently happened. Only two weeks ago she had been preparing for a doomed marriage to Sir Richard and now she'd be married to Matthew in a matter of days. The man she thought had been lost to her forever soon would be with her for forever.

Matthew too was in amazement at the rapid progression of events over the past two weeks. So much had happened and so much was still to happen. He had become engaged, the war had ended, and he has gotten the results of his injury all in a matter of days. Hopefully life would slow down for a time after the wedding.

Isobel looked at her son and soon to be daughter-in-law fondly. They had gone through so much, too much in her opinion, but at last they had found each other and they'd stick together now.

Beauty had been discovered among the tragedy. And it was not the outside beauty that had been found. No, the inward beauty of true love had conquered the horrific events of the war and Matthew's injury. The consequences of the tragedy would go on, but love could overcome any obstacle set in its way.

* * *

_**A/N: Well, this outcome for Matthew has been my plan all along. I've always wondered what direction the show would have gone had Matthew never recovered and decided to explore that venue as it hadn't been done before. And don't worry, there are no fatal car accidents in the future for him.**_

_**If I stick with the current outline, the wedding should be in the next chapter. If not, the chapter after that. It all depends if the characters hijack the chapter again and make it extremely long like this one.**_

_**I couldn't figure out how long it took to develop an x-ray in 1914. Judging from the fact that it takes roughly half-an-hour to an hour to develop a photo in a dark room (at least, that's what I found from google), I figured allowing an hour or so for an x-ray to develop was logical. If anyone actually knows what the correct time frame would be, or has a better educated guess, please let me know so I can correct it. I also didn't know if doctor's had figured out that lead stopped x-rays and how it's placed on the areas that the x-ray doesn't need to focus on. I assumed this hadn't happened yet, and again, if you know the actual history, let me know.**_

_**All my info regarding spinal cord injuries came from Wikipedia. I did a bit of research while writing this chapter and hopefully what the doctor says is accurate according to the time. I'm assuimg that by 1918 the various bones of the human body were known. Even though I'm a history buff, medical history is something I barely know anything about.**_

_**As to his having children, the Wikipedia article didn't say it was an impossibility, but that the sexual function is often affected after a spinal cord injury. So, there is a rare chance that Matthew could have kids.**_

_***Aristotle talks about the different types of friendship in his book Nic Ethics. A friendship of utility is when both members are in a relationship simply to get a benefit from the other. Friendship of pleasure is based on the pleasurable qualities such as wit, good looks, or other similar aspects. The third and final type of friendship if one of virtue. It is the rarest to find, but it is the truest form of friendship. In a friendship based on virtue, both members of the friendship strive to build each other up in aspects of virtue, or, goodness.**_

* * *

_**Hogfan: Thanks for the review. I don't know when Richard's reaction will be, but it should be in the next chapter or two. Lavinia will make a brief appearance again at some point.**_

_**Stephanie: Thanks for the review. That's an interesting perspective to have on fanfiction.I guess your profession makes you rather picky about the quality of the writing. Both quality and content of a story go together. And yes, writing a good story with a happy ending can be difficult, which is why a lot of my stories seem to have a more bitter-sweet feel.**_

_**Guest: I'm glad you're enjoying this story and I hope you continue to do so.**_


	13. A Step Forward

_**A/N As some of you may have noticed, I recently started another story that has missing scenes. They're minor scenes that either didn't make it into the main chapter or the idea for the scene came to me later. Rarely will they play a part in the plot, but they might be helpful in character development and a few small references. **_

The train ride home the next day was of an entirely different nature than the ride to London. They had come to London hoping for good news and were leaving it knowing that Matthew was never to walk again. The only comforting piece of information gained was the extremely slim possibility of having children.

Once settled in the train, Matthew sat and stared out of the window. Mary sat down on the seat next to him and Isobel set across from the both of them.

The train ride continued on in silence for quite some time. At last, Mary reached out and touched Matthew's hand, startling him. "Mary," he said, as he tried to steady his breath. "What?" he asked, more sharply than he had intended.

"You're so quiet," Mary responded. "It's not like you."

"There's a lot of things about me that aren't like me," Matthew retorted. "I've changed … a lot." He hated thinking about everything that happened over the past years that had changed him into the man he now was. He knew some of the changes were for the better; he now knew what he truly valued in life and what was important. But, he also knew how terrible war was and what humans could do to each other. And that didn't have anything to do with the physical changes he had experienced. He knew he was lucky, but so often he wished that he hadn't made it back. If the injury had occurred mere inches higher, he probably wouldn't be able to sit without support, he might not have been able to control his arms. At the same time, if it had been a few inches lower, he might have been able to regain some control of his legs. He pounded his fist into his thigh, not caring if he got a bruise. He wouldn't be able to feel anything there if he got one anyway. "Just feel," he muttered angrily. Not for the first time he wished that he could at least feel something. He could resign himself to never walking, but he'd never get used to not feeling. If he couldn't see his legs, he'd swear he didn't have them.

"I know," Mary responded quietly, choosing to ignore his latest statement. "We all have to and we all need to help each other mend." The consequences of the war were visible nearly everywhere one looked and the innocence of everyone, except those too young to remember, had been taken away to some degree or other.

Matthew turned and looked straight into Mary's eyes. He knew that she truly meant what she said and was grateful for it. But, no one could take away the pain and loss he currently was feeling. He looked down at his lap, at his useless limbs. Never stand, never walk, never feel. That summed up a great deal of his future right there and he felt useless because of it. In a very strange way, he'd be able to somehow make love, maybe a child, but he wouldn't be able to feel it. He dug his hand into his thigh once more. With his hand, he could feel the stiffness and hardness of his muscles from being unused. "Atrophy," he mumbled under his breath. There wasn't anything that could be done to prevent it as it simply happened because of sheer lack of use of his legs. Well, maybe something could be done to keep his legs from becoming permanently bent. Sybil or his mother would know what to do. His mind drifted back to all the limitations that his situation had placed on him. He had always been a fairly athletic child: climbing trees, swimming, flying kites, and it hurt to know that he would never do any of those actions again. It was worse to think about the fact that he wouldn't be able to do it with any children he might have either. He could feel a few tears welling up in his eyes and he quickly brushed them away so no one would see.

His mind drifted back to those first horrible days of consciousness after the accident. He hasn't been overly aware of what had happened, but he still remembered his multiple near collapses onto despair. It had seemed like the moment he had finally accepted his situation, he'd get depressed again. So many people had pulled him back from the edge: Mary, his mother, Sybil, Robert. They all had helped one way or another and all had given him importance advice to think about. Currently, he was still struggling with the reality of his injury. It had only been three months, but those three months had been a lifetime. They had declared he was to be practically an invalid for the rest of his days. He just needed to force himself to accept it, but he didn't want to. His mother had told him he needed something to cling to. That he had found, both in Mary and in God. Somehow, he knew that survival was possible. But he didn't simply want survival; he wanted to live. He knew Robert had been right when he had told him that his mind was the key to his recovery. Once he had started to believe he could do things, he would often try. Many times, he would fail, but he couldn't give up. He needed to gain something that proved he wasn't completely helpless. _But what? _There wasn't anything he could do independently and he needed that to truly prove himself.

When Mary had first told him that awful day in the hospital, he couldn't believe her. He couldn't believe that life could be so cruel as to take so much away and yet leave him with a sound mind. Then he found out he couldn't have children; then Dr Cotes said he might recover; now he knew he'd never recover; he had a possibility of fathering children. Never had there been so many changes in such a short amount of time. _Why had he lived? Why was he doomed to this worthless half-life of a cripple?_ At the moment, the only thing that kept him going was Mary. She had been there from the beginning: his meltdowns, moments of depression, self-pity. She had seen it all and had looked past it; she had looked at the man buried deep inside the emotional turmoil of pain, grief, injury, and loss. He wasn't even certain if there was a remnant of his old self deep down. Everyone said there was, but he couldn't feel it. He could barely remember the two years he had spent at Downton before the war. Now all he could feel was emptiness. He was merely a shell; half his body was skin, bone, and stiffening muscle. _Could Mary continue to look beyond that? Could she see the man behind the nightmares, the meltdowns, the emotionless countenance? What did she see in him that caused her to love him do deeply? Why had she choosen to spend her life with someone who was half a man?_ He didn't have anything to give her, except for a secure future at Downton, but he wanted to give her so much more. Even if they managed to father a child, it wouldn't be the same, not for him. Oh, fhere wouldn't be a difference in the actual child, but the process. Maybe Mary wouldn't be able to tell the difference when they acted as lovers, but he would. The mere thought of being with her, of making love, but not feeling sent sent shudders down his spine. _How could life go on when he was simply thrown to the bottom of it all?_ _How was he supposed to get up and keep going if he couldn't get up independently in the first place?_ Matthew took a deep breath to steady himself. It wouldn't do to break down on the train. He reminded himself yet again that he was alive and that was what mattered at the end of the day. He was going home. His fiancée was beside him and his mother across from him. They still loved him even though he was forever changed: inside and out. So often he told himself that statement and yet, he constantly was unable to believe it. Only time would tell if he'd fully accept what had happened.

Eventually, they arrived at the Downton station. Moseley brought his wheelchair around, and both Moseley and Branson helped him out of the train and into the chair.

As they headed towards the motor, Matthew was struck by a sudden feeling of dread. He didn't want to see Cousin Robert and tell him that his heir was confined to a blasted wheelchair, was a cripple, for life. Even though he knew that Robert wouldn't say anything negative about the situation, it was inevitable that Robert would be devastated. He vaguely remembered Robert's initial reaction of horror and loss, but also a sense of calm and endurance. His cousin had simply continued on last time, but could he again?

He didn't know what compelled him, but he turned to Mary and asked, "Can we … uh … walk (there had to be a different word he could use) to the Abbey?"

"Certainly," Mary answered. "I could do with a breath of fresh air myself." With that, she took control of Matthew's wheelchair and away they went.

The walk from Downton station to the Abbey generally took about twenty minutes, so there was plenty of time to figure out what he was to say to Robert and Cora. But, what was he to say? Was he just to go up to them and say, '_Good day, Robert, Cora. Just so you know, your future heir and son-in-law is cripple for life._'? The idea of such a statement was laughable, but truly, how could he possibly break the news? Everyone had been so hopeful that this visit would contain excellent news and it had only confirmed the worst fears. Would it have been better not to get the second opinion? All it had done was cause him to have false hope.

"Matthew, what are you thinking about?" Mary inquired after several minutes of walking in silence.

"How to break this news to your parents and the rest of the family," Matthew replied bitterly. "How am I supposed to tell them that I'm a worthless cripple for life?" He knew he shouldn't continue to say those words, but they were the truth. It was the way the world would see him.

Mary stopped pushing him. She applied the brake and came around to face him. She knelt down in order to be at eye level with him and lightly touched his knee, even though she knew he couldn't feel it. "How many times must I tell you not to use those words?" she asked exasperatingly. "You may have a physical disability, but you're anything but worthless."

"It's true," Matthew retorted, carefully avoiding Mary's gaze, though his eyes were drawn to where her hand rested. "And before you go off on how I still have my whole mind, only you, my mother, Sybil, and perhaps your father believe that. Most of the world is going to see me as completely incompetent because all they can see is this blasted wheelchair." He pounded the arm of the wheelchair for emphasis. It was a prison, a mobile prison that let him go most anywhere, but at the same time, he was confined to where he sat.

Mary stared at Matthew for a few brief seconds and said, "Well then, you're just going to have to prove them wrong."

"How?" Matthew asked weakly. "I doubt I'll get a word in edgewise anywhere as everyone will doubt my cognitive abilities due to my physical disabilities. I want to go back to being a solicitor, but I can't. I don't look like someone who could be a solicitor and I sure as hell don't look like an earl."

Their conversation had started to attract curious looks from passer-byers, so Mary simply said, "We'll continue this later. But please, Matthew, don't think of yourself as a cripple or incompetent. Please, I'm begging you. You aren't, nor ever will be neither of them. And you'll make one of the best earls the house of Grantham has ever had."

Matthew knew he was defeated and nodded in understanding. He knew what Mary was telling him, but he couldn't believe her, not yet anyway. And he doubted that he'd make a good earl. He didnt have anything in him that fit the part. She didn't have to deal with the strange glances or being talked to as if he were a two-year-old. It hasn't started yet as the only people he had truly interacted with were family and other recuperating soldiers, but he knew that once he really started going places (if he ever did), things would be very different.

After making certain Matthew understood her speech, Mary got behind him again, and after releasing the brake, continued onward. "How much wedding planning do you think got done?" she asked as a change of subject.

"It's your mother and grandmother," Matthew replied. "And they didn't have my mother to argue with, so I would say a decent amount got finished."

"I do wish we could have a reception at the house, but it isn't possible," Mary sighed. "I want to do a small one in the library if possible and perhaps there can be a proper one held in the spring. I know the normal tradition is the wedding breakfast, but I'm feeling … American about that."

"If you want that to happen, it probably can," Matthew assured, then he lapsed back into silence as he tried to formulate his thoughts and avoid falling into despair.

When they arrived at the Abbey, Robert met them outside and they followed him into the small library where the rest of the family was gathered. Isobel had shown up a few minutes previously and was currently engaged in conversation with Sybil.

"Should I ring for tea?" asked Cora.

"Yes, Mama, that would be lovely," Mary replied.

"Why did you walk from the station?" asked Edith curiously. "There might not be snow, but there is a chill outside."

"It isn't cold out, not to my definition," Matthew said with a shudder as he remembered the past several winters that had been spent in the trenches for the most part. "And I needed time to gather my thoughts."

A few moments later, Carson brought the tea in. Once he had his cup, Matthew awkwardly toyed with it. He knew he needed to tell the family the results, but he really didn't want to. He felt Mary squeeze his elbow in comfort and then felt ready.

"Carson, you may leave," Cora said as the tea was finished being served. "I'll let you know if anything more is needed."

Carson was just about to leave the room when Matthew said, "Wait, I'd like for you to stay. Please."

Robert gave Carson the affirmative to stay and so he stood in the corner of the room.

"What did Sir John say?" Robert asked from his post in front of the fireplace.

Matthew shut his eyes for a moment and the image of the x-ray came back. He shuddered briefly and said in a low voice, "Not good news."

"What do you mean?" asked a concerned Violet.

Matthew clenched his trousers tightly in his hand as he said bitterly, "What I mean is that for the rest of my earthly existence, I'll be stuck in a wheelchair." There, he had said it. All that was left was their reaction.

There was a collective gasp throughout the room. Sybil leapt up and hurried out of the room her handkerchief covering her mouth. Edith stifled any cry coming from her and sat perfectly still, staring at him. Cora looked sadly at him and he could clearly see pity in her eyes, which he hated. Violet sighed quietly, but then put on a resolute face and smiled at him and Mary. Carson looked sad, but thankfully not pitying. Robert though was the worst. His face contained a mixture of anguish and grief and he was slightly pale. He collapsed down into his chair with his head in his hands.

"Robert?" Matthew said quietly. He bent down to release the brake and roll over to where his soon to be father-in-law sat, but Robert got up before he could move.

"My dear boy," Robert sighed as he stood up. He walked over to where Matthew and Mary were. He placed his hand on Matthew's shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze, and said, "I am so sorry."

"Please, whatever you do, don't pity me," said Matthew firmly, with an intense look at Cora. Pity would only slow him down, cause him to not want to try. That was what Robert had meant when he said he needed to believe he could do things. If he accepted pity, it would only confirm that he was a cripple. If he refused the pity, it was a step in the direction that he could still do things.

"I promise you, I won't," said a voice from behind. He turned his head around as best he could and saw that Sybil had returned. "I'm sorry I ran out," she apologized as she came further into view. "I am sorry that it turned out this way, but I do promise not to pity you."

Matthew smiled at his cousin, so thankful she was on his side, but this brief moment of peace was soon interrupted by Cora.

"So what is to happen with the wedding then?" Cora asked.

"Nothing," Mary said firmly. "I accepted Matthew's proposal before he knew whether he'd walk again or not. Even though he's never walking again, I'm still marrying him. I thought you were happy about it."

"I was, Mary," replied Cora, "but that was before he found out his condition was permanent. Darling, if you're doing this simply to protect your reputation, you could do much better."

Matthew stared at Cora in astonishment. That woman was always surprising him with how loving she could be one moment and how unfeeling at other moments. His gaze kept going between Cora, Robert, and Mary.

Mary too was staring at her mother with a mixture of shock and anger. Only a few days previously her mother had been a stanch supporter of her and Matthew's marriage, but now it seemed as if she no longer supported it.

"Cora!" Isobel said sternly. "You know as all as I how difficult it has been for my son and for Mary. When they became engaged last week, I could tell that all that truly mattered to the both of them was getting married. It is obvious that they love each other."

"Cora!" cried an agast Robert before Mary had a chance to reply back to her mother. "Should it honestly matter whether or not Matthew's in a wheelchair? He's a lot better of a man than many able-bodied men are, including that scoundrel Carlisle. I am ever so thankful that you're not marrying him, Mary. And Matthew, I'm proud to have you both as my son-in-law and as my heir."

"Thank you, Papa," Mary said quietly.

"Thank you, Robert," murmured Matthew, so thankful to have someone else on his side. It was strange that even though he still had lapses where he was convinced he was now longer a man, he couldn't bear to have anyone treat him like a child or invalid. It seemed that somewhere deep within him he still believed he was a man, even though so often he thought he wasn't.

"But all the complications …," Cora protested feebly. "You know what Doctor Clarkson said about having no children."

"Mama, that doesn't matter at the moment," stated Mary. "Right now all that matters to us is getting married on Wednesday. You were in support of it merely days ago. As for my reputation … well, I can't say I don't care about it, but I'd rather have a ruined reputation than not be with Matthew." She didn't know whether to tell her family the other piece of news from Sir John, but as Matthew didn't want to share they information at the moment, she decided against it. Mary stood up and from behind Matthew, placed both her hands on his shoulders as she said this.

"Cora," Robert said sternly before she could say anything else. "At this point, neither of them could make a better match. It's also clear that they truly love each other, which is better than what we had at the beginning of our marriage." Like he had said earlier, Matthew was one of the best men he knew. Even though it had only been a matter of months since Matthew had convinced himself that marriage was no longer for him, he had proposed to Mary: partly to save her from Carlisle, but Robert also knew the two of them were in love.

"Very well, Robert," Cora sighed in defeat. "I am glad you two are getting married, but I wish they were under better circumstances."

"At least there is something to be cheerful about," Violet stated. "That's more than what a lot of people can say."

"That's very true, Cousin Violet," replied Matthew, extremely thankful to have someone else on his side. Cousin Cora was just concerned for her daughter and would quickly become accepting of their marriage again. He really didn't have anything to give her except a secure future at Downton and hopefully a preserved reputation. And while both of those were extremely important, he could understand Cora's worry, even though he hated the way she had presented it.

"Call me Granny," Violet stated. "After all, you're about to become my grandson."

Isobel smiled at the older woman. There had been a time when Violet Crawley drove her mad. She still did on occasion, but underneath that prickly exterior, there was a loving woman who wasn't afraid to help those who needed it.

"Thank you, Granny," said Matthew. As Cousin Violet was the matriarch of the family, he finally felt like a member now that he had permission to call her Granny. "So, what wedding arrangements did we miss?" he asked, turning back to Cora.

"Not much, as there isn't a lot to do because of the size. It also made some things less complicated without the reading of the banns. I do wish you had opted for that more traditional means, but considering you want to keep it out of the papers, the marriage license makes sense," Cora answered. "Mary, there are a few late blooms left if you're still determined to do that as a bouquet."

"I am, Mama," said Mary. "Do I still need to send the invitations out?"

"I don't think so. Unless, there's someone who wasn't mentioned last week," Cora responded. "I sent one to my mother even though it won't reach her until after the ceremony. Still, she'll what to know about it."

"And Carson, as much staff as can be spared is invited," Mary said.

"Thank you, Lady Mary," Carson replied. "Mr Crawley, would you like to share the results of the doctor appointment yourself with the staff or would you like me to do so?"

"If it doesn't bother you, I'd rather not explain it all again," answered Matthew as he looked down at his lap. It had been Doctor Clarkson to originally break the news to the family, but this time he had had to do it. It had practically taken all of his energy out of him and he had no clue how Mary had been able to tell him.

"Very well," Carson said. "I'll tell the staff this evening."

* * *

That evening as Bates helped him to bed, giving Moseley a much needed break, Bates said, "I was sorry to hear that the doctor's results weren't what you had wished."

Matthew quickly looked up and saw and expression that seemed to be understanding. Bates was probably the man who could empathize with him the most do to his physical disability. "I just have a lot of adaptation ahead of me," he sighed as Bates moved his legs onto the bed.

"As does every veteran," Bates said gently. "Some more than others, but it's always there." He paused briefly and added, "If you ever need someone to talk to about … about the war, I am available. I'm certain Lord Grantham could help you well if you wish."

"Thank you, Bates," Matthew replied. "I may do that." He had forgotten that Robert and Bates had both fought in the Boer War. Granted, fighting in South Africa was probably quite different than France, but they had both been in the army. They both understood what it was like living with the memories of dead friends and waking up in the middle of night in a cold sweat. He didn't have nightmares every night, but when he did, they were bad. He was thankful Mary hadn't seen or heard him during one yet, but she would soon.

As he lay in bed after Bates had left, the realization of his future slowly began to dawn on him. His life was going to be more different than he could ever have dreamt. Here he was at thirty-three years of age, a veteran without the use of his legs, heir to the Earl of Grantham, and was to be married in a matter of days. Hopefully life would slow down somewhat as he doubted he could keep up otherwise. As he thought about all that was in store for their future, he suddenly remembered someone that needed to get told this personally: Lavinia. He thought of her as a dear friend, like he always had since childhood, and knew she couldn't find out about his marriage from the papers. _How should he tell her? Should he invite her to the wedding?_ Matthew let out a long, drawn-out sigh. He didn't know what the best course of action would be, but he did know that he needed to talk to Mary about this.

The next morning, he brought this concern up to Mary over breakfast. "If you think it's best to invite her, we can," Mary replied. "But I do agree that she cannot find out in the papers. And she should know Carlisle's part in this as well."

Matthew nodded in agreement, glad she saw things in a similar way. "I guess we should send the invitation to her then," he said. "Or should we call? The wedding is in two days and I doubt mail would get to London that quickly."

"You can call her and invite her then," Mary replied. "Explain things how you think it's best."

Matthew nodded. "I never loved Lavinia, like how I've always loved you," he assured. "Lavinia is a dear friend from childhood. Her father and mine were friends and her father also was a colleague of mine. During the war, I thought there might have been something, but it wasn't."

Mary nodded in understanding and they finished their breakfast.

A bit later, Matthew wheeled himself to where the phone was. There it hung, just out of his reach. _How was he to call Lavinia if he couldn't even reach the telephone?_ That was yet another thing he was incapable of doing. He could feel the frustration building in his chest, but he fixes his eyes straight ahead and took a few deep, steady breaths. At that moment, Robert walked by and saw his predicament.

"Robert, can you hand me the receiver?" Matthew asked, somewhat embarrassed. He hoped that if he tilted his head enough, he could still be heard on the other end of the line.

"Certainly, my lad," Robert replied as he handed it to him. "I'll see what I can do about getting the telephone moved down to a more accessible level."

That would be a more obvious way of saying 'there's a cripple in this house', but it would also save him the embarrassment of having to ask for the reciever. "Thank you," Matthew said and put the earpiece up to his ear. "Operator, please connect me to Reginald Swire in London." He hoped he could be heard and breathed a sigh of relief when the operator responded.

"Certainly," the operator replied. "Who should I say is calling?"

"Matthew Crawley," he said.

A few moments later, he was connected.

"Hello?" a tentative voice said at the other end.

"Lavinia?"

"Matthew?"

"Yes, it's I," Matthew said.

"W-what are you calling about?" Lavinia asked. "I thought you didn't want to have any connections with me anymore."

"Lavinia, there's something you need to know," Matthew said calmly. "Actually, there's several things that all relate." He didn't know how he was going to do this, but figured the best thing was to say it all and quickly. Explanations could come later.

"What?"

"First, Mary and I are getting married on Wednesday and you're invited to the wedding. Before you say anything, this partly has to do with rescuing Mary from Carlisle. He was blackmailing her into marrying him. Also, it's always been Mary that I've loved. You're a dear girl Lavinia and have always been a good friend. I don't want to lose that and I apologize both for how I led you on and how I treated you in the hospital."

There was a gasp from the other side. "Matthew, it's alright. I-I don't think I ever loved you in that way either," Lavinia said gently. "You and Mary will make a lovely couple. And, what you did for her was very noble of you. I've never liked that man. He tried to convince me that you wanted me back, but I knew that couldn't be true."

"He did what?" Matthew asked in shock. He wished there was something that he could do as a lawyer to bring Carlisle to justice, but unless he could get actual proof of blackmail, there wasn't anything he could do.

"I knew if you wanted me back, I'd hear from you," Lavinia continued. "Matthew, I'm happy for you and Mary. And I would like to be just friends."

"Thank you, Lavinia," replied Matthew. "And will we expect you at the wedding?"

"Naturally," Lavinia answered. "Matthew, how are you doing?"

Matthew sighed and said, "As well as can be expected, I assume." _Did he need to tell her about Sir John Cotes?_ When she left, he was certain he was paralyzed for life and now that had been confirmed.

"Matthew? Are you still there?" Lavinia asked after the line had been silent for several moments.

"Yes, I'm here," answered Matthew. "There's something else I should tell you. I got a second opinion about my injury."

"And?" Lavinia prompted.

"Doctor Clarkson was right," Matthew answered seriously. "I'm never going to walk again, … but there is a slim chance that I might be able to father children."

"Really Matthew?" Lavinia asked in surprise. "That's… that's wonderful."

"I'm glad you think so," Matthew said. "I'll see you on Wednesday then. Oh, and your father is invited as well. The wedding will be held in the village church."

"I'm looking forward to it," Lavinia replied. "And I'm certain Father will join me."

"Well, goodbye," Matthew said a bit awkwardly. "I'll see you on Wednesday."

"Goodbye," replied Lavinia.

Matthew found himself awkwardly holding the receiver in his hand. He couldn't hang it up, but as long as it wasn't hung up, they were still connected to the line. There wasn't anyone in the room and he didn't want to call out for help. He tried to stretch his torso and arm as much as possible to see if he could slip the receiver into place, but he slipped. He landed on the ground with an "Oof." as the receiver banged against the wall. Thankfully, his reactions were still rather quick and he was able to somewhat break the fall with his hands. He ended up lying on the ground, face almost planted into the carpeting, with his feet tangled up in the footrest of his wheelchair. Of course, he couldn't tell what was going on with his legs and feet until he experienced resistance as he tried to army crawl into a straight position. "Damnit," he muttered, knowing that something was preventing him from straightening as he could feel a strange tension in his upper back and sides. He pushed his upper body into a push-up position, just enough to allow him to flop over onto his back. As he was rolling over, he also heard a snap that seemed to come from the direction of his legs, but he couldn't tell. From his new position, he could see that his legs were hopelessly tangled: both with each other and with the footrest. "Just great," he muttered to himself. He knew he was incapable of untangling his legs himself and he had probably made it worse by rolling over. _Who should he alert to his predicament?_ He didn't want Mary to see him in such a state, but she might be the only option. A moment later, he heard footsteps and Sybil rounded the corner.

"Matthew!" she cried out in horror as she rushed towards him. "What happened?"

"Slipped out of my wheelchair while tying to hang the receiver," he muttered under his breath. "I thought I could untangle my legs if I rolled onto my back, but I think I made things worse."

"I'll say," muttered Sybil as she bent down to untangle him from his wheelchair. "You'll be lucky if you didn't break an ankle from the way it's caught underneath the footrest."

"Not like I can tell," Matthew huffed, "though I did hear something snap when I rolled over."

At that point, Sybil had freed his legs from the wheelchair and straightened them out. "I can't get you back into your wheelchair by myself. I'll go get another nurse and be right back." She quickly hung the receiver back on the hook and went off to find another nurse.

Matthew just lay there as he waited for Sybil to return. At last, the embarrassment of the situation was hitting him. Falling was bad enough, but being completely unable to do anything in that situation made it even worse. Of course, if his legs hasn't been tangled up, he probably would have been able to army crawl, but where? "I wonder if I should get a few bell pulls with longer strings," Matthew muttered just as Sybil and another nurse arrived. Thankfully, she didn't ask any questions, having already been briefed by Sybil. Together they managed to get him back into his wheelchair. Matthew helped as much as he could with adjusting his weight, but he knew it wasn't overly helpful.

Once he was seated, Sybil slipped off both his shoes and began to tenderly feel his ankles. Matthew looked down at her in confusion and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Making certain you didn't break anything with your tangled adventure," she replied with a light laugh. She had been horrified when she had seen her cousin sprawled on the floor, but now that she knew he was okay, she needed to relieve herself of the tension one way or another. "Your legs were impossibly tangled up. If you'd had the slightest feeling in the area, you would have been in great pain."

"Oh," responded Matthew blankly. It was strange to think that he could injure himself and never feel it.

Sybil let out a long sigh. "You managed to break your left ankle," she said. "I'll set it as best I can, but perhaps Doctor Clarkson should come and look at it."

"It's not like I can feel any pain there," he said gruffly, "nor will I ever stand on it."

"That may be," Sybil responded matter-of-factly, "but it still needs to get set. Also, your ankle still will swell, so, it's going to need to be elevated as much as possible."

"I am not having my leg elevated at my wedding," retorted Matthew.

"That should be fine. A few hours shouldn't make a difference," Sybil replied. "Now, I just need to wheel you to a place where I can easily set your ankle. And you'll have to explain to Mary."

Matthew let out a long sigh. He didn't want to have to explain his moment of idiotic clumsiness to his fiancée. If he had been thinking, he should have simply called for someone to hang the receiver back up. That humiliation would have been a lot less than his current humiliating situation.

"Matthew!" Mary called when she saw him down the hall. "What took so long?" She glanced down at his shirt and saw how mussed it was. "What on earth happened?"

"Damaged pride," Matthew responded in a low tone.

"He tried to hang the receiver back up and fell out of his chair," Sybil hastily explained. "His legs got a bit tangled up in the footrest and he broke his left ankle, but all in all, nothing overly dangerous."

"Nothing dangerous?" Mary asked in a raised voice. "Matthew, you could have been seriously injured."

"Mary, please calm down," Sybil said gently. "As strange as this sounds, I have a feeling this was a good experience. And yes Mary, I will explain myself. Matthew, you were lucky I was nearby."

"In my defense, I was trying to untangle myself," stated Matthew. "If I had been able to move, I was going to army crawl to where the bell pull is."

"And how would you have reached that?" Mary inquired.

"I don't know," Matthew answered with a sigh. "I should talk to your father about getting the strings on some of them lengthened."

"That would be a good idea," Mary agreed. "And you should mention that to him tonight. Now, Sybil, why on earth was this accident a good experience?"

"Matthew knew how to stay calm when he found himself in a situation in which he was … well… helpless," Sybil explained. "You had the right idea to army crawl, and that probably would have been successful had you not been tangled with your chair. However, part of your problem could simply have been you have lost the arm strength needed to crawl that way."

"So, you think the sheer force of crawling should have loosed my legs if I hadn't rolled over?" Matthew asked, though he was skeptical of Sybil's theory. He had the strength to wheel himself the majority of the time, but then, it was using a different set of muscles. And, it had taken him several months to build up the arm strength to wheel himself the majority of the time.

"Most likely," Sybil answered. "As for whether or not that is true, after your ankle has healed, I say we have you try army crawling," Sybil said. "Now, Mary, could you take him to his room? I'll be back in a moment with bandages and ice."

Matthew looked down at his ankle and he could see that it was a bit swollen. At least it didn't hurt. That was the one decent thing about not being able to feel, he couldn't feel pain, even though it was a bit odd.

A few minutes later, Sybil was back with the items and his ankle was quickly bound up and resting in the ice. "We'll wait for the swelling to go down and then I'll see if contacting Doctor Clarkson is necessary," she said, adjusting the position of the footrest as she did so. "Matthew, make certain to remove the ice after about twenty minutes and then replace it about another twenty minutes later. You won't be able to tell if your foot is getting cold."

Once Sybil had left, Mary turned to face her fiancé. "Matthew, you could have been seriously injured!" she said again, this time in a little steadier of a voice.

"Mary, love," Matthew interrupted. "Nothing really happened. The only reason I ended up breaking my ankle was because I rolled over to try to untangle myself."

"I just want you to be safe," replied Mary. "If you need the telephone receiver or something, just ask. Don't try to injure yourself getting something."

"I wasn't trying to injure myself!" Matthew retorted. "I need to learn to be as independent as I possibly can, which I know isn't much, but I need as much as possible. If I get a few scrapes learning how to be independent, that's great. I can't spend the rest of my life being coddled! And Sybil's right, I do need to learn how to take care of myself if I fall out of my wheelchair again."

With that, he spun his chair around and headed out the door, leaving a surprised Mary in his wake. "I just want to help you," she murmured, even though she knew he couldn't hear her.

"You can't force your help on him," Isobel said. She had seen her son exiting the bedroom in a hurry and was curious as to what had happened to his ankle. "By the way, what happened to his ankle?"

"He broke it falling out of his wheelchair trying to put the telephone receiver back on its hook," Mary stated. "Sybil said the injury probably happened when he rolled over to try and untangle his legs from the wheelchair."

Isobel slowly nodded and said, "I can see why you want to help him. I'd want to help him too: prevent any more injuries, especially one's he wouldn't know the existence of. But, he is an adult and even though you two will be husband and wife on Wednesday, you can't jump up and help him with every little thing."

"I know," Mary sighed. "I just don't want him to get hurt again. And it seems that he hardly ever realizes when he needs to ask for help." She knew she was being somewhat hypocritical as she also was an extremely stubborn person that rarely asked for help, but it was very strange to be on the opposite side in this type of situation.

"He may get his fair share of scrapes over the coming months and years as he adjusts," said Isobel calmly. "But, that isn't any different than a child learning about the world. Matthew sees the world through a different lense now, they all do, and it's a major sense of adjustment for them all.

"It grieves me so much to see my only child like this: hurt, confused, depressed, and so often dependent on others. But, I know that whatever the end result ends up being, he'll be the better man for it. I am going to be very proud to call you my daughter, Mary."_**  
**_

Mary sighed, knowing that Isobel was right. Matthew needed to be supported and given the means to try to gain independence, not helped with every little thing. As much as she hated it, Mary knew that she needed to take a step back and allow Matthew to move forward on his own. They had more than their fair share of challenges ahead of them, but they would face them together and help each other when it was needed.

_**A/N: the wedding was supposed to originally be in this chapter, but then I would have been pushing 11k+ words. This way I also get more time to flesh out the wedding scene, which I'm often rubbish at writing.**_

* * *

_**Guest: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.**_

_**Stephanie: Thanks for the review. I don't know about the happiness level of this chapter, but I think I can safely assure you that the next chapter will be happier.**_


	14. A New Beginning

Wednesday, November twentieth dawned clear and bright. As Matthew lay in bed he glanced around at the small ground-floor bedroom that had been his for the past two months, ever since he had returned to Downton. This was the last day he would wake up alone in it. In fact, this was the last morning he'd awaken in this room as they had chosen a small suite of rooms down the hallway to be their bedroom, dressing room, and a private sitting room.

The reason for all this was that this afternoon he was to marry the love of his life, Mary. It was hard to believe that this event was actually going to happen. Four years ago, he had given up on the idea of marrying Mary and just three months ago had thought he had made the decision to never marry. Well, he had been wrong on both accounts but he was glad about that. He knew that he has a very difficult life ahead of him, but spending it with Mary would make it much easier for the both of them.

A knock on the door startled him out of his reverie. "Come in," he said as he pushed himself into a seated position, extremely thankful that he could sit up in bed without assistance. It was one assisted action that had been checked off his list of inabilities.

The door opened and in entered Moseley. "Are your ready for your big day, sir?" he asked.

"It depends on what your definition of ready is," laughed Matthew. "I can't wait to marry her but … well, I know what butterflies in the stomach now feels like." The type of nervousness he felt was strange. He knew what terror was, but this, this was a strange feeling that frightened him and he didn't know how to deal with it. "I don't exactly know what I should do."

"I'm certain things will come to you, sir," Moseley replied as he went to the wardrobe and pulled out a morning suit.

Matthew was still getting used to the idea of wearing civilian clothes again. Even though he had been out of the action since August, he as well as the other recuperating officers, had continued to wear their uniforms for the duration of the war. His regular uniforms were all packed away, but he had kept out his dress uniform, his medals, and his rank insignia in an easily accessible place. "Moseley, I'm planning on wearing my dress uniform to the ceremony today," he said. "I know it's probably a bit strange as I've been discharged, but I think it's the right thing to do."

"Very good, sir," Moseley said, having finished arranging the suit on the dresser.

Matthew flung the bedclothes off of him and first grabbed one and then the other useless leg and eased them over the side of the bed where they hung limply. He then lay down and after a few moments managed to get his pyjama bottoms pulled down to below his waist. He sat up again and shoved them completely off. Moseley bent down and picked them off of the floor and then handed Matthew his suit pants. It was harder to put pants on than to take them off, but Matthew managed quite well. He held the pants in his right hand and picked up his left leg with the other as he carefully moved his leg above the pants and gently eased it into the respective leg. The first time he had done this he had accidentally put his pants on backwards and had needed rescuing from Moseley. Thankfully, he usually could get the placement right the first time. The process was repeated for the second leg. It was a bit harder as he had to deal with the bandage holding his ankle in place, which Doctor Clarkson had said was sufficient to hold the ankle in place. After all, there was no worry about him moving it unless he banged something in his wheelchair.

Once both legs were in his trousers, he lay down again to pull them up the rest of the way as well as button them. The belt, which currently was an accessory do to the fact that he was practically swimming in his old clothes, (He had refused the frivolity of new clothes because there were those who simply needed clothes, rather than a smaller size of clothing.) would be put on when he was completely finished.

He swiftly unbuttoned his pyjama top and after pulling it off placed beside him on the bed. Moseley then handed him his undershirt and then his regular shirt, both of which were successfully put on. Matthew's fingers fumbled with the tie, but he managed to get it on fairly straight. He then threaded his belt through the belt loops and was dressed, except for his jacket. Moseley handed it to him and Matthew quickly put it on.

"Thank you," Matthew said quietly. "Moseley, I appreciate it that you let me dress myself. It's one of the few things I have the capability of doing."

"It's perfectly fine," Moseley assured. "I am quite glad that you try your hardest to do things independently." He brought the wheelchair over and parked it right next to the bed. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I ever will be," Matthew sighed. He still clung to the belief that someday he'd be able to get into his wheelchair without being lifted into it now that he knew it would be a part of him for life. It now only took one person's help for him to transfer from bed to wheelchair and Moseley's main job in this was to help steady him to ensure he didn't fall on the floor like he had done in London.

He knew that he wasn't going to see Mary this morning as she was going with the American tradition that the belief of seeing the groom the morning of the wedding was bad luck. So, once he was settled in his chair, he went to the hall where the soldiers are their meals. He wanted to spend one last morning with this group of men, but he knew he'd still spend time with them. A few had already been sent home and Doctor Clarkson was fairly certain that everyone would be gone by Easter, perhaps even earlier.

As he sat at the breakfast table, he looked around at the other men. Some of them he had become friends with and others he barely knew.

"Congratulations, Captain," said one of the men.

"Thank you," Matthew replied, a bit automatically, but it was sincere. He couldn't believe that his wedding day was here. It was only about six hours before he would be a married man.

"Anything you're doing to celebrate your last few hours as a bachelor?" Edward asked.

"Eddie," groaned Matthew. "Please, there's nothing that want to do except get married, though I'm terrified at the idea of marriage as well."

"You struck gold with your girl," Edward said with a grin. "You two are perfect together."

"Thanks," replied Matthew, "though you should have known us six years ago. To say our first meeting was strained would be an understatement considering I made a comment about Robert 'pushing' one of his daughters on me within her hearing, though I didn't know it. I think both of us have been in love with the other for that long, but we finally got around to admitting it to the other." Matthew laughed silently at the disasterous first meeting he had had with Mary. It never would have crossed his mind all those years that they would fall in love and get married.

Edward didn't say anything, but gave a slight shake of his head. "You never did know how to handle women at Oxford," he sighed. "But at least you figured it out eventually."

The next couple of hours felt extremely long. Matthew wished to see Mary, but knew that couldn't happen simply because the bride and groom didn't see each other the morning of the wedding, at least according to the American tradition Mary had decided to follow.

He was still sitting in the main library, staring off into space when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He jerked his head around to see who had snuck up on him and exclaimed, "Captain Napier!"

"Captain Crawley," Evelyn replied as he came around to the front of Matthew's wheelchair. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise," Matthew said as he extended his hand. "I'd get up, but …" He gestured at the wheelchair.

"Don't worry," Evelyn replied. "It's only by sheer luck that I'm not in one of those contraptions myself. I lost one leg right below the knee and very nearly lost part of another."

At that moment, Matthew realized that Evelyn Napier was leaning rather heavily on a cane gripped in his right hand and that the end of a wooden leg was visible where his left shoe ought to have been.

"We're both lucky to be alive," Matthew said, not being able to say anything else, nor was there anything else that could be said. "Would you like to come to the small library? It's one of the few downstairs rooms kept separate for family and guests."

"Certainly," Evelyn replied. "Lead the way, Captain Crawley."

"Please, stop with the titles," said Matthew. "We've both been to hell and back. Just call me 'Matthew'."

"Only if you call me 'Evelyn'," Evelyn replied.

"Very well, Evelyn," Matthew answered as he released the brake and began to wheel himself towards the small library.

Evelyn limped slowly along beside Matthew. "I must say, I'm very pleased that you two finally are getting married. Back in 1913 when I first met you it was obvious to anyone, except for you two, that you were in love."

"I know," Matthew sighed. "And we were both fools. I proposed to her before the war started, but she hesitated for so long that I took it back and rushed straight into the war. I now know the reason for her hesitation and in some ways, it was honourable."

"May I ask what it was?" Evelyn inquired.

"You may, but I won't answer. If Mary wishes to tell you, she will," Matthew replied curtly. The incident was still Mary's, and only Mary's, to tell. At this point, they had reached the small library. Matthew reached out and after a moment of fumbling, opened the door and rolled in. He stopped close to one of the chairs and a grateful Evelyn sank down, rubbing his right leg as he did so.

"When were you injured?" Matthew asked as an effort to start some conversation. He vaguely remembered a letter from his mother that mentioned Evelyn recovering at Downton, but he couldn't remember when.

"1916, the Somme," replied Evelyn. "And it was Amines for you, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Matthew answered distantly. He hated thinking about the battles, but his mind still constantly returned there. Many times a week he'd wake up bathed in cold sweat from a nightmare. He usually was able to go back to sleep, but sometimes he'd just lay there until dawn. Mary knew so little about the nightmares. For so long in the hospital, he had been so full of morphine that he hasn't slept, and by the times the dreams came, his mother was there at night. He dreaded the first night he would wake Mary with his nightmares.

"Matthew?" Evelyn asked. "Is everything alright? You don't have pre-wedding jitters, do you?"

"I think everything is alright," responded Matthew, blinking back into the world of reality, which was becoming easier and easier to accept. "It's just hard to believe I'll be married to Mary in about three hours."

"I'm certain that this will be one of the best days of your life," Evelyn said. "And you will make a wonderful husband and in the future, a great father and earl."

Matthew nervously drummed his fingers on his thigh, hardly noticing the nervous twitch. "About that," he began slowly as he had never told anyone this news yet, "the chances of me becoming a father the natural way are very slim. I can't feel that particular part of my anatomy, but I was told there still is a slight chance of lovemaking somehow working."

"Oh," said a clearly surprised Evelyn. "I should have realised that complication. Well, I do hope you can father children. And there is always adoption."

"I know," Matthew replied. "And that's been mentioned, by Mary actually. I would do it in a heartbeat, but … well … adopted children cannot inherit, at least, in the case of a a title and I'm not certain about the estate. I honestly don't care about all these inheritance laws, but I'll have to figure out something."

"I see," Evelyn murmured, "but hopefully that worry is a long way off. And who knows what might change with the law system."

They continued to talk for quite some time, but then Matthew looked at the clock and exclaimed, "Good heavens! It's nearly two o'clock. Sorry to interrupt, but I must go change."

"I shouldn't keep you from that then," Evelyn said as he slowly stood up. "I shall see you at the ceremony."

Matthew headed towards his room and soon Moseley was helping him get his dress uniform on. It was rather strange to be wearing it again, but Matthew knew it was the right idea. There were to be several other previous officers in attendance and Matthew had also sent an in invitation to his regimental officer as well. He hasn't seen him since his injury, but Matthew hoped everything would run smoothly.

* * *

Meanwhile, Mary too was in a flutter. She couldn't believe that her wedding was to occur in a mere matter of hours. She had dreamed of this day since she was a girl, but the groom had always been faceless. For a time it had been Matthew's face she had seen and a dreadful time followed in which it was Carlisle. Now though, it was Matthew and it was always to be Matthew.

Her mother, sisters, and Anna were all in her bedroom helping her get ready.

"My dear, you simply must calm down," Cora advised. "It isn't good to be so nervous."

"As if you weren't nervous when you married Papa," Mary muttered under her breath. She had heard several different stories about her parents' wedding, all of them mentioning how dreadfully worried her mother had been.

"She's probably right, you know," Sybil gently pointed out.

Once Mary had gotten her dress on, Anna brought out a tiara that had a veil attached to it.

"Something old," she said with a grin. The tiara had been used in Crawley weddings for at least the past three generations, so it was in the neighbourhood of being at least one-hundred years old.

"And your diamond earrings from Matthew are something new," Sybil added excitedly. "Now what, borrowed, blue, and a sixpence?"

"What are you going on about?" Mary asked in confusion, before remembering the old rhyme. She laughed and said, "What if I use my sapphire hair pins? That would be the 'something blue'? Anna, could you find them in my drawer?"

"Certainly, milady," Anna replied.

"What should you borrow for today?" wondered Edith.

"The veil probably counts as it was mine," Cora said, "and slipping a sixpence into your shoe will be very simple."

While everyone hustled around gathering all the needed supplies, Mary sank down into her chair at her vanity and looked in the mirror. "I cannot believe this day is actually here," she said in awe. "I had given up hope of every marrying for love and now I get to marry the one man that I ever truly loved."

"And you're very blessed to love him," said Cora. She had finally come to terms with Mary marrying Matthew in his current state. "I'm certain the both of you will have a wonderful marriage."

"Thank you, Mama," replied Mary. "I know it's going to be a difficult journey at times, but I know the two of us will be able to bear anything together."

The rest of the final preparations flew by and Mary hardly realised what was happening. Before she knew it, she found herself getting into the car to travel to the church where Matthew would be waiting for her.

* * *

The moment had arrived at last. Mary got out of the car and looked up at the large doors of the church. She carefully adjusted her train and Sybil placed her veil over her face. She took her bouquet of winter blossoms in her hands, took a deep breath, and walked through the double doors with Sybil following behind her. Once in the church, Sybil began to walk up the aisle and her father turned to her.

"I cannot believe this is actually happening," he whispered. "My darling Mary is getting married."

"Papa, please, don't go sentimental on me," Mary whispered back.

Then, the organ began to play her processional. "It's time," she said nervously.

She took her father's arm and the pair began to walk slowly up the aisle. Mary was glowing with happiness and she looked straight up the aisle where her eyes caught Matthew's. He was so handsome, sitting there straight and proud, dressed in his red dress uniform with his best man standing beside him. The walk up the aisle seemed to be agonizingly long and Mary felt that she would never arrive at the end. But eventually she did. She slowly walked up the steps and her father passed her hand over to Matthew's. She slipped her right hand into his left as they made their way towards the kneeling cushion They were needing to manipulate tradition slightly to adhere to Matthew's injury, but as much as possible would conform to a normal wedding ceremony. They slowly moved to the kneeling cushion and Mary knelt down while Matthew bowed his head.

"Dearly beloved," began the minister, "we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church: which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence and first miracle that he wrought in Cana of Galilee, and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God. Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. If any man can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

There was silence in the sanctuary and so the minister continued. "I require and charge you both, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that if any persons are joined together otherwise than as God's Word doth allow, their marriage is not lawful."

Neither of them said anything. Whatever they thought that could have kept them from wedding had already been brought to light and deemed to not be of consequence. Nothing would ever prevent them from marriage again.

The minister then turned to Matthew and said, "Matthew Reginald Crawley, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her honour and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

And in his deep, rich voice, Matthew replied, "I will." For four long years he had hoped to hear these words with Mary at his side and at last it was happening.

The minister then turned to Mary and said, "Mary Josephine Crawley, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," Mary answered as she tried to keep her voice even. This event was finally happening and she could hardly believe it.

"Repeat after me," the minister said as he moved on to the next part of the ceremony. "I Matthew Reginald Crawley, …"

"I, Matthew Reginald Crawley," Matthew repeated.

"…take thee Mary Josephine Crawley to my wedded wife,…"

"Take thee Mary Josephine Crawley to my wedded wife," Matthew continued, relishing the flow of the words on in tongue. The time for this blessed event had finally arrived and he had been hoping for this day for years.

"…to have and to hold from this day forward,…"

"To have and to hold from this day forward." In just a few minutes, they would be husband and wife for the rest of their lives.

"…for better for worse, for richer for poorer,…"

"for better for worse, for richer for poorer," no matter what happened, Matthew knew they would stick together. They had already gone through so much and even through the trials and blessings that were to come, Matthew knew they would conquer them.

"… in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part…"

"… in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part," This part of the vow struck him strangely. Mary had upheld this end in more ways than one could count when she had been there from the moment he had arrived at the hospital. He hoped that he could return even a small amount of the devotion she had shown him during the darkest time of his life.

"…according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth," concluded the minister.

"according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth," Matthew finished.

And then he turned to Mary and said, "Repeat after me. I, Mary Josephine Crawley…

"I, Mary Josephine Crawley …," Mary began.

"…take thee Matthew Reginald Crawley to my wedded husband,…"

"take thee Matthew Reginald Crawley to my wedded husband." Oh, how she loved finally saying those words in the same sentence. This dream had come and gone many times, but at last it was coming true. It was turning from a dream to reality.

"…to have and to hold, from this day forward,…"

"to have and to hold, from this day forward," Soon, they would be forever joined as one.

"…for better for worse, for richer for poorer,…"

"for better for worse, for richer for poorer," Only the Lord knew what was in store for them over then course of their lifetime, but Mary knew that no matter what happened, her and Matthew's love would only grow stronger.

"…in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part,…"

"in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part," She knew just how much this part of the vows personally struck them. Ever since he had arrived at the hospital, she had been there for him and now she always would be.

"…according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."

"according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth," she finished, her voice quavering just a tinge.

Matthew then pulled the wedding band out of his breast pocket and slipped it onto her left ring finger as he repeated the final part of the vows after the minister. "With this Ring I thee wed, …"

"With this Ring I thee wed,"

"…and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: …"

"and with all my worldly goods I thee endow:" It was a bit ironic really that technically Downton should have been Mary's from the start, but now, through him, she was getting it.

"…In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

"In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen," concluded Matthew. He desperately wanted to lean in and give her a kiss, but such things weren't done at the wedding. He could hardly believe it, but now, at last, they were married.

Then the minister spoke again. "Let us pray. Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, As it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation; But deliver us from evil. Amen.

"O eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life; Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this man and this woman, whom we bless in thy Name; that, as Isaac and Rebecca lived faithfully together, so these persons may surely perform and keep the vow and covenant betwixt them made, (whereof this Ring given and received is a token and pledge,) and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according to thy laws; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Matthew and Mary then joined their right hands as the minister said, "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."

He then turned to the congregation and said, "Forasmuch as Matthew and Mary have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a Ring, and by joining hands; I pronounce that they are Man and Wife, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

"God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favour look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace; that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen."

It was over. Mary slowly stood up and beamed at Matthew, who smiled right back at her. Matthew's best man, who was a university friend of his, that had been lucky to escape the war with only a slight limp, carefully eased him and the wheelchair down the few steps. It was a bit of a bumpy ride, but Matthew didn't let the jarring bother him. Once down the steps, David continued to push Matthew to allow the new bride and groom to walk hand-in-hand down the aisle. Sybil followed close behind her sister.

* * *

Only a few minutes later, everyone had arrived at the house. Mary made a move to go and push Matthew in through the front door, but he stopped her.

"Darling, you can't push your husband across the threshold. It isn't right," he reprimanded jokingly.

"What are we to do then?" inquired Mary.

"Sit down in my lap," Matthew commanded. Mary did so and she wrapped one arm around Matthew to support herself. Once she was seated and her skirts out of the way (the train and veil practically covered the both of them) Matthew slowly began to wheel the two of them across the threshold.

No one made a move to help or stop them. This was an act of a married couple that Matthew and Mary needed to do on their own.

It was slow work, but soon the newly married couple had crossed the threshold of Downton Abbey and had entered the wonderfully, though simply, decorated Great Hall. Once they were fully indoors, the couple leaned in for a kiss, the like of which had never happened before in the place they were sitting.

Neither of them knew quite how long the kiss lasted, except for when they finally broke apart, the majority of the wedding party had entered the house and we're waiting for them to go into the ballroom. There was to be no dancing at the wedding celebration, but currently the ballroom was the only room in the house in which a reception-like event could be held.

Mary got out of her husband's lap, and after ensuring that the entirety of her dress was off of the wheelchair, she walked beside him as they made their way to the ballroom. Once inside, the mingling and congratulations began as well as trying to avoid certain people, such as Aunt Rosamund. From a distance, Matthew saw Lavinia and her father, Reginald Swire. A few seconds later, Lavinia spotted the couple and hurried over, her father close behind.

"It's good to see you, Lavinia, Reginald," Matthew said, giving Lavinia a kiss on the hand and shaking Reginald's.

"We offer our congratulations," Reginald said, without any animosity towards the young man who had almost been his son-in-law. "How are you doing, lad?"

"What kind of an answer do you expect to get from someone who's been married all of thirty minutes?" wondered Matthew. "I'm doing excellently! Is that correct, Mary?"

"Of course, darling," Mary answered as she bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm being a poor host," Matthew said with a quick shake of his head. "Reginald, this is my wife, Mary. Mary, this is Reginald Swire, Lavinia's father and an old colleague of mine."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Swire," Mary answered.

"Likewise," Reginald answered, as he kissed her hand.

"You're looking much better, Matthew," Lavinia said, trying to find something to say. "It's wonderful to see you sitting up and moving around."

"Thank you," responded Matthew automatically. He knew that Lavinia's statement was genuine and to hear that from someone other than family or Clarkson was a relief. It meant that he truly was healing and it wasn't simply something people were saying.

He was extremely relieved that the wedding had been a small occasion, as the looks from those he knew was almost more than he could bear. If it had been a grand wedding, he knew he wouldn't have been able to stand it.

As Lavinia and her father moved on to allow other's to congratulate the new couple, someone that Mary did not know came up beside them and said, "Congratulation's Captain Crawley."

"Lieutenant Colonel," Matthew replied with a quick nod of his head. "This is my wife, Lady Mary. Mary, this is my regimental officer, Lieutenant Colonal Daniels."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Mary," the lieutenant colonel replied. "And Captain, I'm glad to see that you made it home. You've made quite a recovery since I saw you last."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel," Matthew replied. "I am very grateful that I made it back and have married such a wonderful woman. As for my recovery, it isn't what I had hoped for, but I'm learning to adapt to the changes life has thrown at me."

"As is everyone," Lieutenant Colonel Daniels sighed. "But now, at last, the healing can begin."

Matthew nodded in agreement as he turned to look at his wife. He and many others had been to hell and back over the past four years, but at last the wounds of the war could begin to heal. He had found his healing in Mary and through her devotion.

Mary smiles gently and placed a hand on Matthew's shoulder when he turned to look at her. So much had happened, but at last they were together.

Isobel then came up to the two of them. She had waited in the background while the Swires and Matthew's officer had been talking to them, but at last, she engaged them in conversation.

"My, boy," she said with tears in her eyes as she stooped to hug him. "Oh, my dear boy. I'm so happy for you and Mary. So, so happy."

"Thank you, Mother," Matthew replied a bit huskily. "I only wish… I wish Father were here."

Isobel started a bit in shock before she composed herself. "So do I, but I know he'd be very proud of you and the man you've become."

Matthew quickly wiped away the tears that were beginning to mist behind his eyes. "I know," he replied. "I just want him here to see it."

"I'm certain he's watching over you," Mary said gently.

Gradually the other members of the immediate family came over to the new couple.

"My dear, lad," Robert said has he shook his son-in-law's hand. "Take good care of my daughter."

"I will, Robert," replied Matthew, though inside he was wondering who would get 'cared' for more in their marriage. Both of them certainly had their share of baggage, but they could help each other with the load.

"It really was about time you two got married," Sybil gently chided. "After all, you've been beating around the bush for going on six years."

"Sybil," Mary said as she struggled to keep a straight face, though it was unsuccessful. She knew her sister was right, but did she have to say it directly?

It was Violet who stepped forward next. "My dears, I'm very pleased. You've made the right choice and you'll have a very happy marriage."

"Thank you, Granny," replied Mary. "I'm very thankful both of us came to our right senses."

"We were both frightfully stubborn," Matthew agreed, "but we tied the knot and nothing can stop us now."

"You still have a long road ahead of you," Robert said gently. "Married life isn't perfect bliss, but the good completely outweighs the bad."

"Robert!" cried Cora.

"My dear, you really were a handful at times, especially when you were expecting the girls," Robert retorted, before suddenly realising what he had said. "Sorry, Matthew, I didn't mean …"

Matthew interrupted before Robert could go any further. "It's quite alright," he assured. "I know you meant well." _And I hope that I can care for Mary when she's in that state_, he thought. _I know there's a possibility of it happening, and I pray it becomes reality._

He and Mary exchanged a furtive glance, sharing their little secret between the two of them. Isobel too, smiled gently in their direction, knowing what they were thinking.

"Congratulations, Matthew, Mary," Edith said, finally getting a chance to say her piece. "Mary, I know we've had our differences, but can we see this wedding as a start of another chance?"

Mary eyed her sister warrilly. Yes, her relationship with Edith had gotten better over the years, but it was still a bit on the strained side. She looked her sister in her eyes and saw that Edith's request had been genuine. "Certainly," she said as she extended her hand. "Friends?"

"Friends," Edith replied firmly, taking her sister's hand in response.

The hours passed by and the newlyweds soon were beginning to grow tired of the constant congratulations. Even though it was a small wedding, there still were a lot of guests, and sadly, Aunt Rosamund had not remained avoidable. But, the conversation with her did not go as badly as they had suspected it would.

Before much longer, Mary and Matthew suddenly found themselves alone. The reception was over and everyone had left. The couple began to make their way to their bedroom and to the new life that was ahead of them.

The long-awaited wedding had finished and one part of their journey had finished, but another was on the way. More adventures awaited them in the future and together they knew they would prevail. Their love had lasted through rejections, war, and injuries, and nothing now could destroy it.

_**A/N I'm pretty rubbish at writing wedding scenes, so hopefully it turned out alright. The vows came from the 1892 Book of Common Prayer.**_

_**A/N Well, this is the end of the first part of Matthew and Mary's journey. I have parts of the next story written, so hopefully it won't take too long for their journey to continue. I'll post here when the next story is up.**_

* * *

_**Stephanie: Thanks for the review. I still have lots of plans for Mary and Matthew, so don't worry. I'm glad that reading fanfiction has helped you improve your English. Have a good time in England.**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N I just wanted to let you all know that the sequel, Love Conquers is up. I hope you've enjoyed this volume and will continue to enjoy Matthew and Mary's adventures. **_


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